It was the first day of the Carpe Noctem festival, and avians from all regions were gathering to participate. The swift voyagers from the Southern coasts brought their saltiest whisky, the rainbow winged dancers of the Amazon traveled in mass, even the small Glaucians ventured from their desert huts to join in the celebration.

The Carpe Noctem festival was a two week long celebration that, as the name implies, started in the afternoons and went well into the nights. This year, the event was being held in the forest of the Managin, a tribe of dusty-winged avians, surrounded by tall Douglas fir trees. While most residential areas were located in the treetops, a clearing was chosen to host the main festivities, and everyone, young and old, labored to get everything ready.

Among the menagerie of bird-folk was a family of ravens visiting from the grasslands. A mother with long, lustrous black hair and a mulberry dress was accompanied by her husband and three small triplets. This would be the children's very first festival of any kind and they were buzzing with more energy than their tiny bodies could contain.

While they were too young to participate past nightfall, the children joined their parents in the themed celebrations during the day. They especially enjoyed the game where younger kids would run around with a long ribbon attached to a low pole while the older kids, who knew how to glide, tried to dive in between them, weaving their own ribbons into the younger's. The goal of the game was to braid them all together, but most of the time, everything ended up as just a big colorful knot.

But when the sun fell, everything really came to life. The older folk would begin the Noctem ceremonies, which began every night by lighting a big bonfire and using it to light hundreds of lanterns that had been made during the day. They'd cook the native deer's meat over the fire and dance to songs from cultures all over the realm, then sleep till the late afternoon. 

On the third night, they held three separate food competitions: the first to see who could make the most beautiful meals, the second to see who would make the most delicious meals, and the third, considered by many to be the best, to create the most interesting meal. This could be anything from candied jerky and spicy tea to oak glazed deer meat rubbed in mint. The Glaucians even prepared a tray of sun-dried lizards that were native to their village. After each tasting, the judges had to bite into a raw ginger root to cleanse their tongues for the next dish. 

Leftovers were often saved for the next day's lunch so the elderly and young would get to have a taste. During this, one of the raven children managed to convince another to bite into some ginger root, and the unfortunate sibling spent the next hour crying from the sour taste. To make things fair, their father made the perpetrator also take a bite from the root. Thus leading to three screaming children (the third started crying because the other two were) and two tired parents. They only quieted down when their mother dangled a small quartz rhinestone in front of them. The shiny crystal distracted the small ravens and soon the family was finally able to rejoin the celebration.

On the last day of the first week, the parents grabbed their children, who were playing in fallen leaves, and brought them to that day's most festive tradition: the dance of exaltatio, a somewhat planned ritual celebrating the entirety of their kind. It takes place in the late afternoon and it shows that no matter what they look like or where they're from, all avians are connected through kinship.

The women and men would line up across from each other and extend their left foot. The moment the musicians started playing, the women twirled towards the men and the men stomp-shuffled towards the women. The dancers would hold their hands in the air with a partner, maybe two, touching the other's hand, but not locking them together. Forming these circles, they'd spin six times, one for each day leading up to the dance, before breaking apart and dancing however they wanted.

Some went up into the lower branches and jumped between them, others formed pairs and danced in sudden movements to emulate the manner of their meeting. The raven couple, despite the message of the ritual, danced together while their kids hopped around with some fluffy-haired hatchlings with eggshell yellow wings.

The dance itself lasted ten minutes, but many dropped from exhaustion far before that. A few managed to keep dancing till the end, those people had crowds circled around them clapping with the music. The final note of a violin leapt into the air and everyone cheered, signifying the end of the first week's festivities.

That evening and the next day were given as days of rest. To let the sleep-deprived tribes reenergize for the last week of the festival. And that's how it should have gone.

However, on the eve of the second round of celebration, disaster struck: Human soldiers from the nearby Vulpine kingdom had snuck between the trees during the Avian's slumber. Right as light began to peek through the horizon, they attacked. Hundreds of warriors adorned in metal swarmed the community and hacked down any early risers. Huts were set ablaze and anyone attempting to fly away was shot down by archers hidden in the tree line. 

The bloodthirsty troops slaughtered women, elderly, and even children in their genocidal conquest. Many were killed before the community could stage a defense. Some tried to run away on foot or hide in stands scattered around the village, but there were too many soldiers and every structure was being eaten away by the growing flames. The sour smoke choked the people's coordination and burned their eyes, leaving them open for one of the intruders to gleefully hack away at their exposed limbs. The strong-winged who managed to evade the initial attack swooped down to grab sword-wielding soldiers and throw them into the human archers while the able bodied on the ground tried their best to pass out weapons and defend the injured.

The family of ravens was one of the last to wake up. Because of its location on the outskirts, their hut had gone mostly untouched, but the sound of the slaughter outside led the father shaking his wife out of bed.

"Grab the kids, I'll cover you above," he said, his hands firmly grasping her shoulders.

She only had time to nod her head before he ran towards their still-sleeping children, placing two of them in her arms. He grabbed the third as they started rubbing their eyes.

"Daddy?"

"Shhhh," he held his finger in front of his lips, "I need you to be my brave little girl, okay? Stay quiet and do what we tell you."

The mother had just enough time to repeat the same sentiment to the others before they rushed out of the hut, clutching their children tightly against themselves.

The mother began sprinting towards the trees. If they could just get into the thick of the forest, they should be safe. But right as she began crossing a smoke-ridden clearing, her husband screamed at her to catch their daughter. She barely had time to drop the other two before the small child barreled into her, nearly knocking her over. She had no time to register the pain of little shoes pelting into her stomach before she saw why he had thrown her in the first place: One of the attackers had thrown a weighted net over the father that had completely entangled him. Now that his wings were rendered useless, he barreled out of the sky and hit the ground like a half-stuffed sack of potatoes.

She felt awful leaving her husband behind, but she had to save her kids. 

Adrenaline dulled the guilt pulling at her head, allowing her to grab her children's hands and sprint towards the shrub wall ahead. She was only ten feet away, tugging her wailing children’s arms behind her, when an arrow shattered into her back, knocking her onto her chest.

"Run," she wheezed to the terrified children staring at their bleeding mother.

The arrow had broken at the shaft, but not before lodging its metal head into her left lung. She could feel her throat filling with fluid and taste iron at the back of her mouth.

The siblings didn't know what to do. If they ran, they could make it into the shrubs, but they were frozen in confusion, fear paralyzing every muscle, choking every thought. Their hesitation allowed a brigade of archers to take advantage of a break in the smoke. 

For a moment, everything went quiet. The rumble of fire, clashing of metal, cries of the battling and wounded, all fell to the side as a barrage of arrows blanketed the mother's hatchlings. Seconds stretched into a lifetime as she watched two arrows go into the farthest child's head, blasting it apart in a slow motion explosion of blood that split her face in opposing directions. Three arrows hit the smallest child's center of mass, disappearing behind her arms as she recoiled violently to the side and flung through the air. The final projectile tunneled clean through the last girl's stomach, ripping apart her delicate skin then lodging itself into the dirt, pinning the child onto the ground. They were all dead before their bodies fell onto the grass. Their mother helplessly watched as their last moments leaked from their eyes and bleed out into pools gathering under them.

Suddenly all the sounds of battle came screaming back and the mother screeched in anguish. Why? Why did they take away her babies? Her husband had most certainly been beaten or his throat slit. How could they hold such cruelty in their hearts? What had her family ever done to them?

Crawling towards her children, she kept screaming, in rage, in sorrow, until a ground troop walked up behind her and kicked in her head. She could no longer scream because her jaw had been flung three feet away from her skull. She couldn't cry because her eye sockets had cracked under the force of a steel-plated shoe. She couldn't mourn because her mind had been slammed into the ground and now stained the dirt.

She was left a horrid mosaic, arms outstretched towards her shredded children, her head nothing more than a pink mush mixed with dark hair and fragmented bone. As the battle raged around the family's lifeless bodies, the steady crimson syrup flowing out of the mother's mangled throat slowly consumed the violent splatters of blood.

#

The mother found herself surrounded by a misty void. Clouds dipped in and out of the near distance, humming with melodic energy. The atmosphere was cool and calming, like stepping into a field after a long rainfall. A warm light radiated to her left, marking a pathway to somewhere unknown. Gold flutters of light danced in its entrance like dust motes, beckoning her to walk inside. 

But something held her back.

A sloshing weight in her heart caused her to hesitate. This was grievously wrong. She pulled away from the embrace of the light, staggering further into the mist. It didn't threaten her or burn her eyes with its radiance, it merely waited patiently, as if it knew she'd eventually go in. But that weight in her chest split across the depth of her mind, pulling at her raw nerves and ringing alarm bells within her emotions.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't right. As she frantically looked around, she saw a pale yellow ring above her head glittering with waves not unlike the northern lights. She wailed and tried to back away from it, but the incandescent halo followed her, showering her in an unbearable warmth. Where were her babies? What happened to them? Had they already fallen victim to that tunnel of light?

The murck tugging at her mind bubbled as her thoughts spiraled further. They were too young to bear such a fate. Why did those awful people get to live with what they've done and she is forced into this- this land of destitution? A path neither she, nor her family, chose. Her thoughts collected together and piled onto themselves. Her emotions were boiling over, burning her skin and sending delirious energy pulsing across her body.

Snapping her head towards that damned halo, she latched her hands around it and tugged. Surprisingly, there was actual weight behind it and her fingers didn't just fall through. But the more she tugged, the more it stubbornly floated back to its place. Getting more and more aggravated, she let out a high-pitched squall and furiously yanked at its sides. A thin, metallic break reverberated through the air, like she had just crushed an ornament in half, and the golden ring melted into her hands.

The warmth that once showered onto her from above now ran in rivulets down her palms and traveled down her wrists to her elbows in golden streaks. It felt like fresh blood, like she had just scratched her own head apart and the fruits of her labor were slithering over her arms.

Burying her face into her wet hands, she fell onto her knees and loudly sobbed. Her wings trembled as they squeezed onto her sides and shielded her face from the unbearable tranquility around her.

"Why so sad, little raven?" a baritone voice asked behind the mist.

"Don't fall into despair so easily, or you might just cover your eyes from the answer in front of you," 

Yanking her head away from her hands, she stared ahead of her, but saw nothing apart from the golden tunnel humming within the velvety fog.

Turning around, her eyes focused on a shadow that wasn't there before--a cluster of dull gray resembling the sky just before a summer storm. It snuffed the vibrant atmosphere around it and obscured the faint outline of a man standing in its center.

"You wish to see your children again?" 

The lush voice hinted at a handsome speaker, but something about it sent chills creeping down her spine.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice somehow staying together despite wailing mere moments before.

"You seek vengeance against the men who wronged your family, yes?"

How did he know this? She narrowed her eyes, skeptical and cautious of the man and his intentions.

"It is a simple question," he stated, she could feel his hidden eyes staring right back into her own.

Pushing down her better judgment, she answered him, "Yes, yes I do." Desperation creaked into her response, cracking her voice mid-sentence.

"What would you be willing to do for retribution?"

Anything. She'd do anything to see their hideous faces contort in pain. To see it in their eyes--that the emotional trauma outweighed whatever physical punishment was afflicting them. And to know that she caused it? She'd gladly swallow a pitcher of broken glass for the opportunity to impale those horrid archer's loved ones and force them to watch. Force them to live her pain.

Ice water splashed over her burning thoughts. Would she really do such things? Her head felt like a clay pot that hadn't been baked right, cracking at the seams from her imbalance. She wanted to fall back onto her knees and cradle her head so it wouldn't break apart.

A hand extended itself from the lead clouds. Its sandy skin looked deceptively warm in front of the stormy gray. Purple veins hid under the palm's surface, like cold-blooded desert snakes waiting to poke their heads out and bite her. The icy feeling that had washed over her now pooled at her feet then rose through her body like ice water flowing through her veins, leaving her nerves bitter and burned from the frost encasing them.

But she swallowed back her worries and shook the shadow's hand. 

#

The king sat at the head of a long table covered in maps marked with silver figures that he had just finished manipulating into the perfect battle plan. About a month before, word of an avian festival had reached the Vulpine king, who saw it as an opportunity not only to open a clear path to his enemy's supply rout, but also to rid the realm of the primitive monstrosities that had been befouling the land that was soon to be his. He sat there, looking upon the table as he rubbed a golden coin between his fingers. With the aid of his strategists and advisors, this conflict was a guaranteed victory. Soon, the Feilden supply line would be his, and his troops' exploits would curry him favor with the religious zealots within his counsel. Why shouldn't he take some time to admire his work?

While contemplating how much time it would take to fully secure the trade route, an unnerving chill pricked up his back. Any chipper demeanor he had fell to the side as he looked around the room. The evening sun illuminated the space from large rectangular windows across the Eastern wall and the trinkets covering the table twinkled in the day's waning light. By all means, it should have been a comforting setting, but as he rubbed the back of his neck and studied the corners of the chamber, a heavy sense of foreboding shrouded the forefront of his mind like a thick wool blanket.

Attempting to calm his irrational nerves, he called to his guards stationed outside the doorway. Surely, once his personal guard were standing at his side, this sense of unease would fade and he could return to checking over his plans. But they hadn't come in. In fact, he didn't hear anything but the whistle of the wind brushing against the windows.

He once again yelled for his guards to get in there. They’d better have an excellent excuse for not responding to his call the first time. What sort of elite soldiers were they? Oh, the punishments he had in store for them if they were dozing on the job. But his aggravation was quickly overshadowed by unease when his voice was met with more silence. Is the castle under attack? No, he'd hear people yelling and weapons clashing together, wouldn't he?

He stood frozen in place, not fully knowing if he should leave the room, when the doors began to rattle. Banging reverberated off the walls as the rattling turned violent. Gasping, he jumped out of his chair and clutched his chest. Whoever it was was going to break the door down if they kept this up. He didn't know if he should scream for help, or stay silent and try to hide. But the only hiding place in the room would be under the table; he'd be found instantly. But just as suddenly as it started, the door grew still and the room was once again silent.

But, wait- that door doesn't even have a lock. Why would anyone-

Before he could finish his thought, the doors burst open, their thick wood splintering as they crashed into the stone walls and tore the banners on either side. A woman with long dark hair and a mulberry dress stood in the entranceway. Black wings that were camouflaged against her hair flapped out to her sides before melting back into her wavy curls. Her dress petalled out from a leather garter around her waist and a wide neckline curved out into long sleeves that widened at the bottom.

She stood in the doorway for a few more seconds, staring at him with eclipsed eyes before she began to walk towards him. A spike of adrenaline allowed the king to break free of his frozen stance and draw his sword toward the winged demon before him. She stopped walking and let out a kind smile. But when he looked into her eyes, his heart stalled at the pure hatred behind them. Her soft physical presence couldn't do anything to shroud the utter abhorrence directed his way. It was so intense that even with the considerable distance between them, his stomach turned.

"What is your business here?!" he roared at the woman.

He couldn't stop his hands from trembling. But was it from clutching the hilt of his sword too hard…or from fear?

Her smile widened, and she held it for a moment before answering him.

"My children have always wanted to see a castle." Her voice was clear and loud but didn't echo in the stone room.

But, did she say children? He kept his stance towards the woman as his eyes darted to his sides. He let out a yelp and nearly broke composure when he realized that on either side of him was a small child. Just like their mother, their eyes were completely blacked out. Unlike their mother, their feathery hair was deceptively soft looking and did nothing to hide their underdeveloped wings.

Slowly backing towards the wall, he looked back at the woman to see her petting a black bird perched on her shoulder. The bird fluttered off as the woman returned her attention to him. Before it could reach the ground, smoke spilt from its panting wings, absorbing its body. The next thing he knew, another child, nearly identical to the others, was standing in front of the woman.

He didn't know what to make of what he was seeing. Were these the same creatures he had just ordered to be exterminated? No, they couldn't be. He hadn't heard of them being able to do this.

"I have something for you," the woman cooed.

She reached behind her and pulled out a severed head. His pounding heart stopped. Had she had that this entire time? Why wasn't it bleeding? Serrated flesh hung off what remained of its throat, and the esophagus swung underneath, but there was no blood.

The man refused to show his fear. He allowed the reinvigorated pounding in his chest to further still his stance as he looked away from the head and directly at the face of the woman.

"You don't recognize them? It's one of your battalion's commanders. But they must not have been that important," she paused, holding up the head and turning it towards her own. 

Lifeless eyes looked into the eyes of a dead man.

"He was important to me. To my family's life. Because he was the one who ended them. He's the one who commanded that attack," she lowered the head, looking back into the king's eyes, no longer bothering to hide her animosity.

"But who commanded the commander?"

Not wanting to stand around anymore, the king lunged forward, his sword raised and ready to strike down the demon before him. 

The woman grabbed his blade midair, stopping it from slashing into her shoulder. Her clawed hands didn't bleed; they didn't even seem to have been cut from the impact. The two struggled with the sword before the woman managed to grab his wrist and throw his sword to the side. His weapon clattered onto the ground and the woman began to grow before his very eyes. She enlarged three times her original size, lifting him off the ground in the process.

The king kicked his legs and screamed as he pulled at her fingers.

"Stop! Put me down! I'll give you anything you want! Just put me-"

"Anything?" she interrupted him.

"Yes! Anything you want, I'll give to you," he pleaded, his hand threatening to break in her grasp.

"I think you know how I'll interpret that," she said, grinning and raising her free hand in front of his chest.

He could only let out one last scream as she pulled a blue mist out of his chest. Electricity sparked within the mist as it twisted and condensed into a glittering gem.

After throwing the king's body to the side, the woman beckoned her children closer.

"Look, my dears. Isn't it beautiful?" 

The king's ghostly visage pounded against the flat face of the gem, his mouth wide open. But no sound could be heard through the surface.

"There is nothing shinier than a soul, especially a human soul," she said.

As the children oohed and awed another presence entered the room: a shambling collection of shards and shadow that undulated to the left of the women.

She glanced at the being before looking back at her children. "I know our deal, who’s first?"

A warped chuckle echoed through the room.

"Straight to work I see,” he chuckled, “Relax a bit. Let your kids run about."

She looked at him, surprised at his deferment. This amused the figure. The fragments of his body scraped against each other as he laughed again.  

"Your duty will come in time." 

With that, he grabbed the jewel from her outstretched hand, and, to the children's disappointment, closed it in his. 

But he quickly loosened his grasp; the jewel fell from his palm and now dangled from a silver chain pinched between his fingers.

"A memento," he said, passing her the necklace and turning toward the window beside him.

She put on the necklace as he walked through the glass and disappeared. 

For a moment, she stared at the silent screaming of the former king and wondered if she had made the right choice. 

But, turning to her giddy daughters, she saw them looking back at her, practically jumping in their excitement. 

The smallest had taken a few of the silver pawns off of the table and was holding one up to show her mom. The other two clearly wanted to climb onto her shoulders; one was already tugging at her dress. She didn't need to properly see their eyes to know they were bursting with life. This would all be worth it. For them.