The only difference between illusion and reality is belief.

~Gwyddion, God of Illusions

A dead tree appeared before him, blackened by fire. Around it, leaves had fallen to the ground, scattered across the small area. He stared blanking at both the tree and the leaves, not knowing why he was there, who he was, or what he was doing. It was there, and he was there, that was all.

A bird made entirely of black flames landed on a low-hanging branch. Curls of smoke rose from where its little clawed feet gripped the branch. Its head cocked sideways as it stared at him.

Caw?

*Your name is Crow.* The bird spoke to him, but sound had no meaning here. Thought was the construct of communication, one conveyed and the other received.

A spark of life flared behind his dead eyes, like naming him had awakened his consciousness. In turn, he stared at black-fire birds as if he could see something in the dancing shadows of its eyes. It was like staring into fire and smoke inside a colorless world. It hurt the mind.

*Crow…* He nodded. *Yes, my name.*

That thought formed a connection to his body. The bones within his flesh—he could feel them now. They burned and turned to ash, reformed, and then turned to ash again. The process went on for eternity because time had no meaning here. All that existed was the pain. The suffering. The grief. The… anger.

*Your name is Crow.* Another black-fire bird appeared. It held a leaf in its beak, which it flung toward the boy that was still staring at them with a stupid look on his face.

*I KNOW!* Crow roared, unsure why he was so angry. No… he knew. It was the pain—pain was anger, and anger was pain. He wanted to forget, wanted to ignore the pain.

*If you know, then stop hiding. Is this the man you want to be? The man your father raised you to be? Your body has awakened a great change, and by hiding, you are weakening the opportunity before you. Hold on to your name. Pick up all these leaves, return them to the tree. They are your memories.*

Crow reached out and caught the leaf the second bird tossed at him. It melted into his hand, and memories of his mother flooded back into his mind. Looking at his hands, he saw the scars on the palms of his hand, which left deeper scars on his soul. Through his spread fingers, he saw thousands of leaves layered on the ground like a thick carpet. Mama, this son was unfilial—I forgot why I started on this path. I will do better.

With his resolve returning, he turned his head upward. Staring unflinchingly at the birds once more.

*Who are you?* Crow asked.

*We are the Sluagh. People fear that name, so they call us the Wild Hunt.*

Not knowing enough, he absorbed the leaves at an alarming rate, his fractured mind slowly reforming. Above, leaves budded, expanding with an unnatural vibrancy, the green coloring matching the emerald of his eyes. Even the tree’s bark recovered, but it didn’t lose the black color that was eerily similar to the black flames of the Sluagh.

With his mind recovering, he recalled why he was here. And with that understanding came the knowledge that he might be within his Soulscape. Looking outward, toward what he could only call the void, he saw that this world was surrounded by the flames of his Soul Burn.

*You are my curse?* Crow asked. It would explain his agony, but he still felt something was off. The pain hovered right outside his conscious state, so he could sense it, but there was a disconnect between mind and body.

Another Sluagh joined the other two.

*We are not a curse, at least not in the way you think. The man that cursed you wasn’t wrong in claiming we are a fate worse than death, but he didn’t how true his words were. Even Arawn and his Soul-Hounds fear us, and he’d never take a soul that belongs to us.*

*I don’t understand. That sounds like a curse to me—what are you?*

*We are the fire left from the souls of the unforgiving dead. We have a unified voice and shared memories, but we each have our own grievances. Many souls will never find peace—but that isn’t what you want to know. We aren’t a traditional curse designed to harm you, but a vengeful soul fire that was never meant to be handled by the living.*

*Does that mean you are here to devour me?*

*We are not, but when we find the being that created this curse, we will burn their soul out of existence. All those that use Soul Burn have been marked by us, including your father. We just find all of you interesting, especially you. It is rare to see a soul connected to us with grievances as powerful as our own.* The birds hopped around and cawed as if laughing. *We should warn you that we have contained time in this place, forcing it to a crawl. Collect the rest of your memories before they are stolen or fade. It is dangerous to leave those laying about.*

Crow did as told, trying to understand the innate fear he had of the birds. Nothing they’ve done suggested they meant him harm, but it was as if they oozed evil or death. Every time he looked at them, he felt as if someone stepped across his tomb.

Caw-caw-caw!

The birds were laughing, and he could feel their mirth and ridicule. He paused while collecting the memories and looked over. Somehow he knew the Sluagh had read his mind. Crow grit his teeth, bearing with it. If they wanted to kill him, they’d have done it. Even he could sense they were beyond powerful.

*We are more ancient than you can fathom. You can hate us—we won’t mind. You won’t remember us when you wake. There is always a chance you’ll recover your memory of us, but until then, we’ll be watching. Waiting. Biding our time as we always do.*

Not bothering to reply, he spent time absorbing all the leaves and then went through everything to make sure he didn’t find any gaps. His memory was such that a slight variation in the timeline of his life would be noticed. It was always possible for his memories to be changed, but he felt confident in his recall.

*Prepare your mind and body. The pain is slowed and dulled. If you break again, we won’t help.*

*Wait! I have questions. Please.*

*There isn’t much time, but we will entertain you.*

*A-are you evil?*

The black-fire bodies had merged at some point, but the three heads remained separate. Each head cocked itself in a different direction, but each had one eye facing Crow.

*We just are. The Sluagh aren’t a force of good or evil. We serve a purpose—a higher directive.* Crow could sense each bird speaking. He knew it was different even though the tone and feel were similar. It was hard to describe, but it was like being in a dark room and feeling the presence of others. *Collecting vengeful souls, those who refuse to enter the river of souls, is our mission. The other part of our directive is the Wild Hunt and helping souls within our collective collect their karmic due so they can move on and await their chance at reincarnation. Evil? It is a mortal concept that holds no meaning to us. You killed. We could ask if you are evil. You are named Crow, and Crow’s are considered omens of death because of us. Does that make you evil?*

*No. I killed to protect myself, and my name…just is. I see.*

*Dealing with existences like us, it’d be best if you thought of us as servants of karma. We are harbingers of death, this we can’t deny. But, our existence was birthed within a disruption of karma, an imbalance so great that it couldn’t be ignored. Now, we have a purpose, a directive. Our existence has taken many forms, but we like blackbirds the most. They suit our needs, and it’s the one selfish thing allowed us. A more recent naming of us has also intrigued and humored us.*

*What name?*

*A Murder of Crows… it suits us.*

*What happens when you collect a soul?*

*They join us, their memories become ours, and if we resolve their vengeance, they pass over. We have looked through your memories too, which is why we decided to help you. This curse of yours, we want to know who made it. We want to see who is foolish enough to attempt to use our flames. We don’t seek to harm those using this curse, just the one that made it. Those using it have provided us a link to the living that we’ve never had. It is allowing us to evolve. We mean to say, we won’t harm your father unless he is worthy of the Wild Hunt.*

Crow sighed at that admission, and with his recovered memories, he’d never heard of any of their names. Murder of Crows wasn’t a title. As far as he knew, it just meant a group of crows, but he was now second-guessing whether that was true. Either way, before him, was a power he did not want to cross, and he doubted he’d sleep peacefully knowing existences like this were out there. The Sluagh scared him more than the heavens, and the heavens were actively trying to kill him.

Caw-caw-caw! The Sluagh laughed at him.

*Why tell me all this if you are going to make me forget?* The hold on time was slowly eroding, and he could sense the building agony and bone-deep pain boiling over. Did he really want to suffer through all that again? It might have been better to die in obscurity.

*You lie to yourself—we know you. Despite your whining, you want to live. Forgetting us is to your advantage. Knowing of our existence will only harm your growth. Did you know we did not arrive here on our own? You summoned us.*

*No, I didn’t… how? At least let me retain the knowledge of how you are summoned.* Crow knew it was a futile request.

*If we did humor you, what would you trade?*

Crow thought about it for a bit, and the Sluagh let him. More black-fire birds arrived by the second, and the tree before him now housed thousands of them. They all had a similar shape, but the number of heads on each one wildly varied.

It was their jagged movements that bothered him the most. It was as if they were puppets on a string, their bodies jerked about unnaturally. They lacked proper motor skills, and it jarred his mind. A deep-seated fear took root in his mind, warning him to look away or his mind would fracture again.

Turning his eyes towards his palms, he felt reassured once more. More than that, he realized he did have something worth trading—he existed in the land of the living.

*I’ll resolve a grievance.* Crow said. The moment he spoke, all the cawing stopped. The silence shocked him and oddly caused his mind greater pain. It made him wonder if this was really a Soulscape or something else.

A black-fire bird flew out from the collective and landed on Crow’s shoulder. The fire appeared more substantial, and it only had one head. Something about it was different than the others.

*I am different. You may call me One. We are in your Soulscape, but it hasn’t fully formed. If you hadn’t absorbed the Hell’s Seed, we wouldn’t have been able to help you. This tree, the fire-hardened trunk, represents your body. It is the foundation and vessel for your mind and soul. You are already aware that the leaves represent memory, and the branches are the structure of your mind. Your soul is still forming, which is why you can’t enter your Soulscape on your own yet.*

*Will this affect my heritage?* Crow asked, turning his head to stare at the tree before him.

*Yes. We are aware of the Draoidh, so you should know that the fire you’ve cleansed your blood with has also purified your bloodline. Your descendants should have no problem awakening their heritage too. And, as you can see, your heritage is no longer the sapling it once was. Comprehension is the real power of your bloodline, and you’ll find few bottlenecks when it comes to understanding the Laws of Existence or the Truths. It is why the Draoidh are feared the most.*

*Thank you for this knowledge.*

*This trade you mentioned. It has my attention. Clarify what you mean.* One nuzzled its warm head against Crow’s cheek, which was a very bird-like thing to do.

It distracted Crow, and he almost randomly delivered terms of the trade. Clarity came before he opened his mouth and recalled what his uncle once said about negotiation. All agreements have a rhythm, and not respecting balance only benefits the other party. Transactions, such as buying goods from a store, are simple. There isn’t a negotiation because fair trade is set by standard prices.

Negotiating is the most difficult if a relationship isn’t already established. Crow should not assume that the surface terms or agreement is all there is to it. One-sided agreements usually mean the other party is either stupid or has ulterior motives. The strategy comes with mitigating the risks, and to do that, Crow couldn’t agree to assist them without establishing some kind of baseline.

*Not bad, human.* One laughed. *This uncle of yours, the doctor, is smart. That advice is good. I’ll give you some free advice. Every wise merchant knows to take a loss on the first trade with a new client. It is about rapport and trust. Would you return to do business with me if I cheated you on our first meeting? Even shysters know this rule because tricking you out of a few coins isn’t as lucrative as convincing you to hand over your whole fortune.*

*That…are you trying to convince me to deal with you, or run away?*

One cawed with laughter, the rest of the Sluagh did the same.

*Terms then.* Crow said after they settled down. *You claimed to be a collective of souls with grievances. I will help one of those. Obviously, it must be within my ability, and I have some rules.*

*Go on. Agreements require you to speak the terms.*

*I will not aid anyone with evil intentions. I have a bottom line, and I won’t cross that. I will not kill innocent people nor children. I won’t pretend I’m strong enough now to assist, but if you give me time to grow.*

*What is considered evil?*

*If the soul caused its own downfall because of greed, lust, or other act that defied common decency—I won’t help them. If they wantonly killed without regard for life, which led to their own death—I won’t help them. But if a man died trying to save his daughter from being savaged by monsters who claim to be people, I’ll help. I’ll grant justice where it’s deserved.*

One turned his head towards the Sluagh, and their sounds were a conversation Crow couldn’t follow. Their presence was starting to make him physically ill, but he didn’t know why. His guess was that they were a presence that shouldn’t exist here or that the heavens were actively rejecting. It was like their existence was tainting his own, which was causing him to be rejected too.

*Your insight is surprisingly accurate.* One said, confirming Crow’s suspicions. *Why would you help us? We survive by devouring souls. We aren’t your friend—we aren’t your enemy either. You’ll get no loyalty from us. No compassion. You entertain us for now, so we approached you. Your terms interest us, but we won’t care if you succeed or fail*

The first response Crow almost spit out was flippant and mostly a lie. These things could read his mind, so that would have been stupid. The real reason was that he wanted to remember, so he had some peace of mind. The kind that came from not repeating the mistake of summoning a being far more powerful and older than the heavens.

The Sluagh had an unshakable power. Mugna was like a candle flame compared to the inferno in which Crow’s body was currently bathing. He did not want to catch the attention of an existence of this level ever again. He feared that having his memories wiped wouldn’t erase the anxiety of meeting the Sluagh, which would make his mind deteriorate. Knowing was preferable.

*This is an acceptable answer. However, we want three favors. In exchange, we won’t touch your memories. Further, we’ll even tell you all the ways you can summon us. We’ll give you five years to grow before we collect our first favor. Agreed?*

*And my stipulations?*

*We don’t believe in your assessment of good and evil, but we’ll agree to your rules.*

*I don’t understand. Why agree then?* Crow coughed and tasted blood. His body was shuddering uncontrollably because time was about to return to normal.

*Your revulsion we understand. Underlying that, you feel that we are evil because we commit atrocities that your unseasoned mind still divides into your sense of good and evil. The Sluagh exists, nothing more. In time you’ll understand this. We follow our directive, bound by rules and a slave to our purpose. This is something you’ll also realize in time. Sometimes fate’s choices aren’t choices at all. We agree because your terms are very favorable to us. However, we believe it’s equally valuable to you. Call it curiosity, or maybe defiance, but we’ve never had a link to the living. It intrigues us. We have no other motives—for now. You will not suffer in your dealings with us because it does not harm us to honor your ideals. Those rules that bind us also prevent us from harming you. For example, we lack the power to subvert or steal living souls.*

Crow was skeptical, but a being this powerful didn’t need to lie to him. Or if it did, it meant that it couldn’t directly influence him. He really wanted nothing to do with this entity, but it had tried to help.

*We did not try. You’d have died without our intervention.* One claimed.

*Then we are agreed.* Crow said decisively.

*Knowing a thing’s name is the easiest way to get it to notice you. Even those that exist in the void can sense it. You know our name—Sluagh. Saying the name with the intent to summon or curse will allow the existence to sense it. Do you understand that warning?*

Crow nodded. They were essentially telling him to not be an idiot. Don’t vocalize a name just because he knows it.

*Good. A name has power—always remember that. The second way to bring us is dying with unresolved grievances. It doesn’t matter if someone killed you, you killed yourself, or grief took you. A soul unwilling to leave belongs to us. This method brought us here on a technicality. If mind or body dies, the Laws of Existence consider you dead.*

*What if my soul dies?*

*If your soul shatters, your existence is erased. It isn’t easy to kill a soul, which brings us to the final way to summon us—the Wild Hunt. It is the only time we are allowed to hunt the living. Never violate the strictures of life and death or affect karma to the point that it creates overwhelming chaos. Doing so gives us the ability to hunt, and it results in that soul’s utter destruction. In older texts, they call these people the Unrepenting, and they are the ultimate sinners.*

There was so much said in such a short time that Crow didn’t understand half of it. It would take time to really process this conversation. On the surface, it felt like this was something that should scare people onto a path of righteousness. Then again, that assumed people knew a predator like the Sluagh existed.

Caw-caw-caw! One laughed, its head once more nuzzled against Crow’s cheek.

*You are funny. Many knew of our existence, but it didn’t deter the massacres. In that age, entire realms were snuffed out. Center yourself and prepare your mind. We can no longer maintain our presence here. Once we leave, time will reassert itself. If your mind breaks again, we can only collect your soul.* One said before disappearing as if he’d never existed.

Pain and suffering tried to slaughter him, but Crow was ready. It didn’t stop him from collapsing to the ground in the fetal position, but he didn’t lose his mind either. There was still that numb disconnect that hadn’t entirely disappeared.

Remembering what the Sluagh said initially, he curled himself up and let the black fire rage inside him. Crow stopped trying to control energy, embracing it as an opportunity. A strange sense of enlightenment convinced him that control was like trying to suppress a volcano. Control was not something that could be maintained indefinitely, and at times, it needed to be relinquished for the greater good.

Somewhere in that pain-hazed self-reflection, his chakra fully opened. It bloomed like a midnight lily without the need for guidance, just as Song Lin claimed it would. Crow stared at it as the blackness fell over his consciousness like a curtain. This time, he dropped because of exhaustion, not a shattered mind.

***

Mugna stumbled back. The wooden cocoon had turned to ash as the Night Fire exploded outward. The barriers lasted a few seconds each before they, too, were incinerated. Gavin, Niall, and Luthais barely managed to keep the flames from escaping the courtyard, but they suffered for it. Singed hair and burned clothes aside, the three looked haggard from overdrawing their Source.

“Thankfully, Conall isn’t here,” Luthais muttered, swiping at his clothes, trying to extinguish the small flames that still burned. “He’d never let us live this down.”

Gavin chuckled but could only wearily nod his head in agreement.

Out of the flames, Crow fell to the ground, but no one moved. All feared the boy might spit out more fire—even Mugna maintained his distance. The boy didn’t move, and some of their darker thoughts wondered if the kid was still alive.

After several intense seconds, Mugna released his pent-up breath.

“He lives. It might not seem like he succeeded with his weak life force, but he took the first step on an alternative path. Have the boy come talk to me when he revives himself. Something ancient was watching.”

“What does that mean?” Niall asked.

“I do not know,” Mugna said softly. “But it might be time to awaken Danu.”

“The Mother?” Luthais asked, startled. The Druids held the Mother in higher regard than Father Oak. She was the mother of all Druid gods and patron of mothers and children everywhere. It would be odd if the Druid Order didn’t hold her in the highest regard. No one knew what had become of her, and Mugna had remained mysteriously tight-lipped about it. Every Druid still left her offerings in the Plaza of the Gods, so her sway over them had not diminished even after ten thousand years.

“Yes,” Mugna said, sounding old and tired. His usual vibrancy and life energy felt weak. Which was the most alarming thing to all of them. What kind of power did Night Fire have that Mugna suffered to this extent. The old god bent over and picked up the naked boy and checked him over. Seeing nothing wrong, he handed him over to Niall. “He appears fine but may not wake for several days. Have him come see me when he awakens.”

Before any of them could reply, Mugna disappeared into his burned-out root. It sank back into the ground while the dirt and stone slid back into place. The entire courtyard shifted and moved as if it was nothing more than water. When the liquid-like illusion faded, it was as if nothing had happened within the courtyard. If it wasn’t for the missing plants and residual fire mana, none of the elders would have suspected anything had happened.

“Luthais, round up those intruders. Get an accounting from their clans. Gavin, I think it’s time to give the boy another totem. Prepare it.”

“Uh, you should look at his heritage,” Gavin said, pointing at Crow’s navel. The tree wasn’t a simple sapling anymore. The intricate Celtic Knotwork was beyond profound, and a three-headed crow appeared within it. The tree reached the bottom of his pectorals, and the roots wrapped down along his genitals and top part of his legs. “Look, the tree is parting around where his Shield will end up. It practically thrums with bloodline power.”

None of them understood what had happened, and the only person that might have answers had already left. Niall didn’t want anyone to see the boy like this. After some hesitation, he put the kid inside one of the residence’s bedrooms. It might not be appropriate with the Song sisters staying there, but it was better than carrying him out looking like a corpse.

After leaving, he sent a few servants to clean the boy and watch over him and the girls. After getting everything sorted, he sighed and left for the ancestral grounds. It was time to activate the elders and have the entire clan on alert. Niall hadn’t felt the streams of fate this restless in a long time. He had to distance himself from the boy for a time, and it was a perfect time to discuss the Maddox clan’s future.