the raven spreads his wings over a wounded fox
and gives him his inner eye, to heal him
the eye bursts in the body of the fox
and tears his heart apart

the night travels with the fox and the raven
where darkness entwines with light
where the old Cat relishes on blood
drinking from the well of souls

raven floats in the air
and the fox needs to stay on the ground
the green wind rages above
and the paws leave footprints in the snow

when the raven falls with his wings cut
the fox silently takes him into his teeth
and offers him his breath
to heal his wounds

that will happen when the great war
makes both lands suffer
and the raven leaves his nest
and the powers of the ancients grow impatient

the key to the raven’s heart
lays in the sacrifice
the fox will return to his forest
hidden safely in the mossy green
and the raven will rebuild his eye
and rebuild his wings
and the frozen garden will swallow his guilt
whispering alluring spells straight into his heart

the fox found on the battleground
ready to die, promised to fate
and the raven, lost in the past
so powerful, yet unable to fly

The fairy prince interviewed. Haha. Oh my.

I: Hello, Lorian!
Lorian: I won’t lower myself to reply with such trivial words.
I: I came here to interview you, so we should get along at least for now.
Lorian: Well, good. As you wish. But you must do exactly what I say, when we finish this silly thing. No matter what it will be.
I: I don’t think it’s a good deal.
Lorian: I am not here to bargain. This or my servants put a leash on your neck and you will be exposed to public view.
I: In that case…well…okay?
Lorian: Eh, this new human way of speaking…okay this, okay that…where and when you lost the beautiful manner of speech?
I: As we have a truce now, may I start asking the questions?
Lorian: “Okay”.
I: How is it to be a fairy lord?
Lorian: You mean “prince”. Is that what you wanted to say? Do not lower my position, almost every fae of high rank has lord title.
I: Yes, prince Lorian. How is it to be a fairy prince?
Lorian: You must watch your back almost all the time. Especially if you have four older brothers. But at least…they must watch their backs too, because being first, second or even fourth to the throne, makes them a delicious target.
I: What magic powers do you possess?
Lorian: Now you ask something which may expose me in the eyes of my enemies.
I: At least one magical power…
Lorian: One? Yes…I can do that. I can control the forces of nature. It can be especially deadly when you live in the forest, like we do *laughs*
I: I heard that you kidnap humans to your realm.
Lorian: *widened eyes* Don’t all lords do that? It’s for fun. We have our lives complicated enough to not use your kind as toys.
I: Toys…
Lorian: Not love slaves. Toys. We play with them. And they go completely dazed and it’s amusing to watch. We use them as private servants.
I: No love slaves?
Lorian: Only if they want. It’s hard for a human to resist a high fae *charming smile*
I: It’s difficult to grasp that someone who fought in a horrible great war as a general, can play with humans as toys.
Lorian: Why not? Don’t you have dogs and cats? We do have them too. We like them. And we like our humans. When teached well, you can be a pleasant and fulfilling company. But all of them are lower beings. They ARE toys.
I: Do you hurt your humans?
Lorian: I doubt we would come to an agreement in this case as you don’t embrace the whole idea.
I: Do I need?
Lorian: You don’t. That’s why you don’t embrace it. If you wanted and needed, you would.
I: Okay—
Lorian: Eh…
I: Good. Why did you fight in the great war? Why all this violence?
Lorian: Because humans don’t embrace one more thing. Territory. It’s our land and you came here without being invited. You stole our ground. Don’t you kill a fox who comes and eats your chickens?
I: Let’s go back to you.
Lorian: … m’lord *devilish smile*
I: Is it how I should title you? Not prince?
Lorian: I know you want to *venom, pure venom*
I: Good, m’lord *he digs his grave* I see your favorite color is black.
Lorian: I was born with black eyes and black marks on my shoulder. My spirit animal is black shuldra. Why shouldn’t I like it? Here fae wear the colors which mean something to them.
I: Here it’s a rather sad and deadly color.
Lorian: It’s the color of rich soil and night sky. It’s the color of life.
I: Eeee…I’ve got a letter here…from a lady who wanted to be kidnapped, gods forgive her sins. May I hand it to you?
Lorian: Whatever.
I: Here, m’lord.
Lorian: *reads* At the mercy of the Cat’se’avan, this is the most impressive example of making a fool of oneself in a few words.
I: Some humans here think that being among fairies makes them beautiful and immortal.
Lorian: This one wants much more and I am not in the mood. I will never be *makes a ball from the paper and throws it behind*
I: Well, that would be it. I will not bother you anymore, then.
Lorian: You forgot about something, my dear human friend.
I: Ah, yes, your…order. What is it?
Lorian: Find me a moon stone which fell on human land exactly a hundred years ago. Make a potion of life from it and bring it to me. Until then, you won’t find love and won’t be loved by anyone.
I: Damn, I am screwed.
Lorian: *smiling venomously* Yes, indeed, you are.

The old gods gave us invisible wings, raven feathers that took us deep into the night, allowing us to bathe in the luminous blood of the stars. The old gods created us free, so we knew no bounds nor fear. We passed the land, taking what is ours, and nature blessed us, crowning us with leaves and moss. The old gods offered us endless grace, so that we could enchant the world for our enjoyment. The glamour that never stopped shining, unless we wanted to show our true selves – fangs, talons, wildness. It was terrifying but also even more tempting than beauty.

The old gods gave us power. They gave us courts to rule, beautiful music to dance to, sharp minds to out clever our opponents, and craft skill to amaze lower races with our beautiful art.

But the old gods can take it all away so easily. Just as easily as Cat separated a paw from his holy body, to give us sky, fire, snow, trees, air, and earth.

Yes, they can take it away. And now the gods are waking up, their souls rise in boundless hunger and thirst. Angry at those who dared to forget about the most cherished of offerings. One so sweet it could satisfy a hunger ancient, quench a thirst eternal.

Flesh and blood of the fae kind.

Our lands will be awash with our souls, eaten alive by the Great One. We knew this would happen, and now the bottomless depth opens its maw once again to swallow us all.

The Cat.
A Devourer.
He approaches, slashing his tails over our exposed backs.