Sylesh woke to the sound of a human scream in the distance. The raven poked his head out of his hiding place. His wings and neck were still stiff from lack of movement. He had stowed away on one of their supply carts. The humans, being remarkably unobservant, had not noticed him at all.

He reminded himself to focus, then emerged fully and let his eyes light up. The Ferash Therall’s eyes cast a red glow all around him. He saw wolf tracks in the snow and dimmed his eyes so they were barely visible. It did not take too much thought to figure out which wolf it might be.

It had to be Akyvak, he thought. Excitement spiked in him. One Razaghal down, and the rest would follow. Sylesh followed the tracks and found the wolf bent over a human body, lapping up blood. Sylesh dug his claws into the snow and hoped the wolf would not catch his scent.

Before he could attack, someone else came into view. Azvalath radiated hatred, paranoia, and rage so strong that Sylesh almost mistook the emotions for his own. He said something to Akyvak, who charged away. Azvalath fell to his knees and clutched his head.

Sylesh knew there would never be a better time to attack Azvalath than when he was on his knees and clouded mentally. He slipped into Azvalath’s mind unnoticed and compelled him to lie down. Azvalath fell onto his side in the snow. Sylesh snuck up on his disoriented enemy. Azvalath did not see the raven right in front of him. It was like the tricking game with Nagi, Sylesh thought, but far less fun.

He reached out and put his bladed claws on Azvalath’s neck. The spell snapped. Azvalath recoiled and sat up. “What…?” he gasped. Then his eyes narrowed. “You.”

Sylesh noted that Azvalath was speaking in Razar and wondered what could have happened. He probed a little deeper. When he saw what had just unfolded, Sylesh shared his thoughts. You know they aren’t safe, Azvalath.

“They will be,” said Azvalath. “I won’t stop until they are.”

Then perhaps you should start with yourself, said Sylesh. He saw Azvalath stiffen as he continued. They aren’t safe with you and never will be. Look at yourself. Covered in blood. What makes you think they’re safe with you?

Azvalath growled like a dog. His muscles quivered with fury. “You don’t get to tell me what’s right when all you want is their blood.”

Sylesh paused for a moment. I’m not trying to tell you what’s right. I don’t even know what that means anymore, he admitted. This all feels pointless. Nothing makes sense. Why would killing anyone restore a god of life? The thought alone felt treasonous. That’s part of why you deserted, wasn’t it? You didn’t understand either.

Azvalath nodded.

But did you ever truly desert? You seem to me a Kai’rei in all but allegiance. Instead of the Ferash, you fight for someone who is your sahad in all but name. Sylesh felt as though he were scratching at the surface of some deeper realization. How do you do it? How do you shun the Iron God? He needs us, you know.

“When you find a flea or a louse in your feathers, do you ever stop to consider how much it needs you?” said Azvalath. “It depends on you, but it also hurts you, and you certainly don’t need it like it needs you.”

Sylesh scratched at the ground. I’ve never thought of it like that.

“What’s your name, anyway?” Azvalath asked.

He looked up. I’m Sylesh.

“Listen close to what I’m about to tell you, Sylesh.” Azvalath leaned in closer. “You have a choice here. You can stay with the Iron God, let him keep taking advantage of you, and live lost in the shadows until either you meet a horrible end, or the same thing happens to you that happened to me. Or,” he said, “you can choose your own path. Choose for yourself what’s right and fight for it. Understand?”

Sylesh looked away.

“Or,” said Azvalath, “I can kill you right here and now.”

Sylesh recoiled. No, I want to live. I have to live.

“Be careful what you wish for,” said Azvalath. “Be very careful.”

Sylesh looked back at Azvalath, then froze in terror. The Grinner stood behind him, teeth bared in that savage, slavering smile. The dog’s jaws opened wide, unnaturally wide. Azvalath somehow had no awareness of the creature behind him. The Grinner reared his head to attack. Instinctually, Sylesh launched himself in Azvalath’s direction, claws outstretched to strike the monster behind him.

Azvalath’s sword hit him like a bolt of lightning. Blood and black feathers flew as Sylesh crashed into the snow. The impact knocked the wind out of him and nearly stole his consciousness. He heard Azvalath scream, but it sounded as if it were half a world away. White-hot pain flashed near the base of his left wing. He lifted his head and saw Azvalath on the ground, screaming as he fought to wrest his arm from the Grinner’s jaws.

Sylesh heard many others approaching by the time he got back on his feet. He forced his way back into Azvalath’s head. What the fuck was that for? I was trying to help you!

The only response he received was the garbled, shrieking nonsense of the Grinner’s broken mind. Sulinnadar…I am…kill…free…is lie…why did you…forgetforgetforgetforgetFORGET

Sylesh turned in a slow, unsteady circle, only to see that they were surrounded by people. One lifted a hand to point at Azvalath. “Traitor!”

“He murdered the Clan Mother!” cried another.

“The wolf got her horse!” another added.

“We should kill him. Right now.”

Sylesh knew he had to fly away. This was not his fight. But when he tried to spread his wings, the pain nearly made him pass out. He heard Azvalath’s partner scream. “You can’t!”

Azvalath grabbed the lightningfisher tooth around his neck and shoved it in the Grinner’s face. The dog let go, recoiled, then fled as fast as it could. It clawed and shoved its way through the humans, scattering a fortunate few. Sylesh watched the rest unfold as if time had slowed down.

He watched Azvalath get up, lift his dark blue sword, and attack. People trampled each other in blind panic as they tried to escape. Blood splattered the snow. Screams rang out all around him. Sylesh looked around and saw people dead on the ground, other people clutching their wounds, and others running for their lives. It was horror beyond comprehension. His vision blurred. He sent out one last call to Azvalath.

Stop!

He passed out. Oblivion had never been more merciful to him.

When he opened his eyes, Sylesh saw more oblivion. A warm wind ruffled his feathers. How pleasant, he thought, to be warm after so long in the cold. Right as he thought that, the wind stopped. Then came a deep hissing sound. An inhalation. His pleasure turned to panic in an instant. Something massive was surrounding him. Something alive.

His instinct was to fly away, but he had no idea which way was up. Even the glow from his eyes could not penetrate the blackness. But something else did. A pair of immense white eyes opened. It took another huge breath and bared teeth so long and sharp they could make a thousand lightningfishers look feeble. Sylesh froze in pure terror at the sight. Whatever he was looking at, he sincerely hoped that it was not real.

A deep voice thrummed in his ears, though the cavernous jaws did not move. “Curious, is it not? Sothyrion, guardian of life, gave me a surprise through one of his silly little blueholes.”

He recognized the voice immediately. It was the same voice he and Nagi had heard when they attempted to contact Vraelen. It was Kaosaan, the Reverse incarnate. He cried out in panic. This could only mean one thing: he had died.

“Little bird…do you not remember? You have seen me before. Vraelen wrested you from my grasp and made you his, but you will be mine again. I am the fate of all souls.” The teeth parted. A deep red light shone between her jaws. Her breath carried the sound of millions of screams.

Sylesh stared into the howling abyss, transfixed despite his horror. It was so terrible and so beautiful that he could not tear his attention away. Shadowy limbs and heads flailed about. Kaosaan’s white eyes rolled. Her jaws opened wider and wider, drew him in closer, and prepared to swallow him.

Without warning, something grabbed him from behind. So much light poured into his eyes that it nearly blinded him. Broad daylight. A raging snowstorm. So much white, so bright, so cold…

His feathers were soaked through with blood and freezing water. The silver fox dropped him from its jaws. It, too, was dripping wet. It stared down at him with a look he could only describe as concern. A badger looked down at him too. “Is he alive?” the badger asked.

“Yes,” said Nightjar. “He almost drowned, and he’ll freeze if we keep him out here.”

What happened? Sylesh asked. He struggled to regain his footing.

“Looks like someone sliced you and threw you in a bluehole,” said Talin. “I’d ask if you were all right, but you sure as dirt don’t look it.”

Sylesh stared up at the overcast sky and the snow pelting down. The light made him feel as if someone were gouging his eyes, but he was too afraid to shut them. I saw her. I saw Kaosaan. The reality chilled him more than the ice.

“I’m sure you did, considering you almost died,” said Nightjar. “I believe a thank-you is in order.”

Thank you, said Sylesh. Though you weren’t too grateful when I brought you back to your body. Could you please get me out of the daylight?

“Come on, Nightjar. You’re all wet too. You could freeze. Let’s get back,” said Talin. He looked back at Sylesh. “We’re staying in a human dwelling right now. Are you afraid of humans?”

My best friend in the whole world is a human, but I don’t care much for most of the species, Sylesh admitted. What kind of human would take you two in?

“A good man,” said Talin. “Don’t let your eyes light up, though. I can’t imagine he likes Ferash Therall. Pretend you’re a lost Razaghal.”

That’s always what I was, said Sylesh. A Ferash Therall is only a Razaghal lost in the shadows.

Nightjar looked at Talin, and they started walking. Sylesh got up and hopped behind them. His wing still hurt too much to fly, though the bleeding had stopped. They walked slow enough that he could keep pace, but he would have much preferred to fly. He tried to keep his head down so the light would not hurt his eyes so much.

They brought him to a human dwelling at least two miles into the woods. Snow blanketed the roof. Huddled under a shelter outside was a shaggy horse wrapped in a heavy blanket. Sylesh heard a man’s and a girl’s voices inside. He looked down at his feet. His claw blades would be a dead giveaway to his true nature, so he took them off and hid them under a log in the snow.

Talin went up to the door and nudged it with his head. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a man whose beard made him look half-bear. “Hello, Talin!”

“Talin’s back!” A girl ran to the door as well. “Who’s the bird?”

Talin looked at Sylesh. “Introduce yourself, would you?”

I’m Sylesh, he said. I talk with my mind instead of my voice. Who are you?

“Call me Jag. This is my daughter, Meliri.” He patted the girl’s shoulder. “Why don’t you three come in? I’ve got a nice fire going. And some food.”

Nightjar and Talin bounded inside. Sylesh came up more cautiously, looked at the girl, and felt something stir inside him. How old is she? Sylesh asked.

“She looks twelve, but she’s four years old,” said Jag. “Little Razaghal grow fast.”

Sylesh’s heart skipped a beat. The girl laughed. “Papa, I’m not little anymore!”

Unsure of what else to do, Sylesh followed them inside.