The Crow Queen’s Oath
There's something captivating about her presence—the way the raven's spirit seems to merge with her own, the quiet power in her gaze. She feels like a guardian of something ancient, something forgotten yet vital. I want to understand her story, the burdens she carries, the wisdom in her silence.
Do you feel drawn to her too? What do you see in her?
The winds howled through the mountaintop as the Crow Queen stood at the edge of the precipice, her dark cloak billowing like wings behind her. The sky was painted in hues of fire and gold, the last remnants of daylight vanishing beyond the horizon. She lifted her gaze, her violet eyes reflecting the gathering storm.
It had been a century since the oath was made—an unbreakable bond between the mortal and the eternal. The spirit of the great raven, Morraka, had chosen her as its vessel, merging their souls into one. No longer merely human, nor fully divine, she had become a guardian of the balance between the living and the dead.
Tonight, the omens whispered of war.
Below the cliffs, torches flickered in the distance—an army marching through the valley, their banners marked with the sigil of the Iron Lords. They sought to conquer the sacred lands, to tear through the ancient forests and desecrate the resting places of her ancestors.
She would not allow it.
Placing a hand on the glowing gemstone at her chest, the Crow Queen murmured an incantation. The air shimmered, and shadows gathered around her, coalescing into spectral ravens with eyes like burning embers. One by one, they cawed and took flight, spreading their wings across the battlefield.
From the darkness, the forgotten spirits would rise. The wrath of the forsaken would fall upon those who dared to disrupt the natural order.
As she stepped forward, the great raven’s beak resting upon her brow like a crown, she whispered into the wind:
"Let them come. The storm is ours to command."