Star Swallower

The shadow bird dove at him a second time, wings rending the air. He barely dodged the attack, careful to lower his sword. As he rolled out of the way of a second dive, he realized that something about this falcon’s movements were simply…wrong.

As was its size. This bird had the silhouette of a saker falcon, but was easily the size of an eagle, if not larger.

Bolero brought himself up to one knee, observing as the dark form again raised itself in the air, poised to dive. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bird’s legs- to the glowing silver anklets wrapped around them. Connected to the anklets hung straps. There were inscriptions on the straps- jesses, he now recognized them as. Tools some humans used to restrain hunting hawks on the fist.

Must be sigils of some kind, he thought to himself. This was some strange form of magical creature. Possibly the Fae’s doing? A new species of Harbinger, like their hounds that prowled the forest at night?

The bird’s body was too dark-there was no iridescence, no reflection of light, as there should be. The falcon brought itself down, screaming loudly once again, enraged at its inability to hit the target. Its eyes, Bolero realized, glowed the same silver as the sigils on its legs.Was this a demon, then? Something that had been summoned?

He rolled away, continuing to track the animal’s movement. He raised his saif and crouched, ready to burn the creature to ash, if it came to it. His toes prickled with the promise of talons, but with the heavy mist, changing was still an impossibility. An arc of flame sparked in between the feathers in his hair- his body ached with the desire to shift.

The falcon-creature, giving up on aerial attacks, came to a stop on the ground beside him. The bird looked even larger on the ground, and took several steps closer. Sword upraised, Bolero scrambled backwards, away from the strange beast. Up close, it became apparent that the falcon had no light to it. Where iridescent blues and greens should shimmer on its feathers, there was only darkness, deep and pure. Where its talon tipped feet now stood, the grass below perished, turning a sickly shade of brown.

Gut churning, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. This bird, this monster, brought rot to the land around it. Gazing at Bolero’s sword, it tilted its head, silver symbols pulsing, but made no further moves towards him. He stared at it, frozen, and again wished to the goddess that he could change forms in this damned fog.

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Bloodbound hawk. Son of Anqa…welcome.

Bolero started at the sound of a voice- the voice- that had drawn him here. The thrumming, genderless murmur that was more song than speech.

Anqa. Mother. How did they know her name? And Bloodbound?

That title again.

“Who are you, and how do you know that name?” Was it possible that his family lived out here? Perhaps they had defected, along with the Corvids and starlings. The swell of hope quickly dissolved into sorrow as the impossibility of it sunk in. If his family had dwelled in the Nithra all these years, surely they would have come to see him when he hunted these forest paths. His mother wouldn’t have watched her only son from afar and said nothing…

“Answer me! How do you know my mother’s name?”

Silence.

His annoyance sparked in his hair, flickered along his fingertips. He raised his blade and leveled it at the falcon.

I’m afraid fire won’t do much against her. The bodiless female voice stated.

The shadow bird continued to stare at him, unmoving. The air around it churned and seethed with darkness, a thick miasma. Its silver eyes and anklets flared with power, flickering and oscillating like a beating heart. He racked his brain for folklore, legends… anything that might explain the being before him.

Could this possibly be a crow or starling? They had once served as valued spies, weavers and manipulators of shadows-Shadesmiths- before they had left the Eyrie. After the territorial spats with the Sidhe, the corvids had abandoned their posts.

Bolero had never seen a live Crow or Starling before in his life.

Was this an illusion wrought by Corvid Shadesmiths? The falcon tilted its head at him, the shadowy aura surrounding it moving as well. Bolero regained his footing, ever-weary of the falcon’s eyes watching him. There was a heaviness to the shadow bird’s gaze, and he knew that the speaker had to be here, watching them. Somewhere.

Content that the beast’s assault was over, he glanced at Indigo's collapsed form beside him.

By the Eagle-please let her be breathing, he prayed silently. Had he failed to protect her, like he feared? His life was one thing- but Indigo was Azura’s cousin. She would be devastated, and it would all be his doing. All his fault. Hadn’t he hurt her enough already? He dropped to his knees beside her, and his breath hitched in his chest. Blood ran down her face, saturating the fabric of her lure dancing clothing. It was stark against the light lavender colored tunic and her fair skin. He reached to brush the hair out of her eyes, willing her to awaken.