Chapter 1

The Cold Burn

The glassy marbled reflection of death mirrored the crow’s eye while it circled twice the frozen field below. Bodies lay scattered; a fresh feast for the black-feathered creature as it landed amongst its brethren, already two-thirds through their flocks’ chosen carcass. Having traveled for miles after receiving word from a nearby colony, the delighted bird of night dug its beak into the several days old feast, enjoying its preserved bloody reward.

Beside the creature, its brethren cawed, bits of grey flesh hanging off its beak. Swallowing its mouthful the crow cawed out in return, “They say the cold’s everywhere, spreading faster than the last Black Death.”

Crying out with amnesty the black feathered beasts cared not for the troubles that plagued the two legged ones that stay pinned to the floors, flightless, dumbed to know little of the lands they loved to fell so much. Their minuscule problems did not affect their lives much more than the larger beasts that soared higher than they could ever reach themselves. But alas, none of that mattered, for tonight they feasted like the larger ones, without a care in the world, for they had all they needed.

-.-.-

Awakening to a canvas of white with little black dots roving in circles within, slowly moving his limbs, Osiris checked to see if he was still alive, for existence was numb to the touch.

Slow in their response his fingers barely bent; he could hardly feel his hands when they began to shake in his attempts to clench them into a fist. Had it not been for a deep itch running down the back of his spine, he would have sworn himself now a cripple. Dead weight lumps of logs he considered his legs, urging them to move about; they too were slow to respond. His face felt as though it were burning, blood returning to the skins surface, the type that could only be eased by sitting fireside. Though clothed in wool, leather and cloak, a fine layer of snow covered his whole.

A loud snapping sound to his left caused him to slowly move his head. Pushing through a stiff neck, Osiris strained to catch a glance at the sound’s source.

Barely five feet away, half buried in snow, he watched the remains of a dead man jostle; his corpse was being torn and consumed by a murder of crows. The sight of empty eye sockets staring at him with the head of a crow plunging its head half way into the cranium caused something in Osiris to stir to life. All of his senses, sight, touch, taste, hearing and smell came rushing in at once. The jolt of blood brought on by the sight and scent of death, forced a spike in his nervous system. The need to upheave overwhelmed him and with a quick jolt, Osiris turned himself away, forcing his knees and arms to hold his weight, as his belly heaved.

Startled by the sudden movement, the death devouring birds cawed with an angry fright, a few taking to the skies, while two stayed consuming, leaving three to turn their eyes to Osiris.

Emptying the smallest bits of bile his belly still held, he looked down to find his chest still covered in a thin layer of snow. Though some had come off during the scramble, a good deal had clung on to his cloak.

Looking into the closest crow’s black marbled eyes, something didn’t sit quite right with Osiris. There was a mischievous way the three stared at him unmoving. He couldn’t help but feel they were telepathically holding a discussion on whether they should attack this being that’d suddenly arisen from the dead, or simply continue feasting on the cadaver right beside. Glancing up at their fellow flocks circling high above, Osiris didn’t like the idea of having to kill off a bunch of birds for accidentally disturbing their dinner, or breakfast, it was hard to tell with the sunless grey sky, the cloud coverage too thick to see the glowing orb. Careful not to interfere anymore then he already had, bringing his knees to his chest, and using his numb hands to prop himself up, Osiris began to slowly rise to his feet.

Watching the crows ever closely, he found it hauntingly uncanny the way only their heads moved, watching while he steadily rose above them, their eyes ever cocked at him.

Daring to peak at what else lay beyond, Osiris took a slow step backwards in caution. Keeping the three in his peripheral, he surveyed the area the best to his abilities. In the distance he could see he was surrounded by dozens of small mounds. Glancing at the nearest, an eerie disturbance took over his senses at the subtle revelation that each one of the mounds he was seeing, may in fact be a dead body. For just along the frozen mounds side, Osiris spotted a pair of leather boots sticking out. In his peripheral vision he spotted movement. Observing the three, he noticed two of the birds remained where they had stood, while the closest, the center one, had hopped forward, tilting its head to watch Osiris with its other eye.

“Go on now bud, shoo,” Osiris tried to whisper but all that came from his numb tongue and tight jaw was gibberish.

This seemed to entertain the other two, for upon seeing their fellow bird hold place, they too hopped forward to follow the first, who seemed compelled to move even closer

Seeing this, Osiris chuckled within; this is ridiculous- I’m being terrified by birds?

Planting a heel in the ground, he used the next step’s momentum to pivot in a smooth transition to standing. Bright light blurred his vision, quickly followed by stars. Overwhelmed by the sudden head rush, stumbling in his tracks, Osiris was forced to bend his knees, placing both hands on his thighs to keep balance. Breathing through the rush while maintaining his stance, he managed a couple of blind steps before a long drawn out caw from behind broke the silence.

Peering over his shoulder, the closest crow was now only a few feet away, showing no intensions of slowing; its followers, the other two, were a mere hop behind. A silent moment full of tension passed, when the single cry was answered by dozens.

The very sound sent inner chills down Osiris’s neck.

Adrenaline spiking through his blood stream, the world took on a new sheen, there was a sudden broadening of his mind. With death literally pecking at the back of his neck, the ruffling of feathered wings beating down overhead only made matters worse. Taking off as fast as his half frozen legs could move, Osiris set his eyes on the only visible structure he could spot within the field, for what looked to be miles around.

-.-.-

Approaching the structure that turned out to be a two story farm house, Osiris could tell it had recently undergone some repairs; dark patches of black tar and fresh wooden planks stood out amongst the multi-shades of green popping out beneath patches of snow. Its foundation consisted of laid red bricks that were barely peeking through, while three out of its five windows that plastered the walls had been shattered, leaving the interior exposed to the icy elements.

Reaching the front of the house, a great and terrible shadow passed overheard, cutting out the little light that filled the world; Osiris didn’t need to glance upwards, his eardrums were being beaten by the flapping of hundreds of wings drowning out the sounds of his own frantic breathing. Sensing his time growing finite, Osiris charged up the small set of stairs, sprinted across the wooden porch and, threw his right shoulder into the wooden plank serving as the front door, shattering its frozen, rusty hinges free from its nailed support in the process.

The rotting wood gave way instantly, causing Osiris to stumble, falling hard onto the wood paneled floor; the momentum left his body sliding a few feet.

Frozen with terror Osiris couldn’t help but stare out the opening he’d just created. A feeling of despair slowly taking hold, for outside the two story wooden structure, nature was playing its hand. High above in the distance, three separate murders of crows split from one another,  before dropping a near twenty feet, where they reformed into a singular entity, resembling a slick black spike. Whose very direction, seemed to be directed at the narrow doorway.

I’ll never make it out in time.

Panicking, Osiris surveyed his immediate surroundings; he was lying in the abandoned farmhouse’s living room. The space itself filled with nothing more than a long brown couch with goose feathers poking out at numerous patch points, and a single plump plum colored chair knocked over on its side. For no reason other than the front door being closed, he’d thought perhaps someone might have been home. Turned out, he’d been wrong.

Scrambling to his feet, he spun around and immediately spotted a single door in the wall beneath a staircase leading to the second floor. Throwing his body at the door, Osiris felt another wave of crippling despair hit him when he opened it and discovered it to be a small broom closet. An image of himself turning for the floor above flashed within his mind, but before the idea could finish playing out, the world around was enveloped in darkness. Forcing his inner prejudices aside, Osiris threw himself into the small wooden confines, seconds before the walls began shaking. The rattling thin barrier between he and the violent impacts of crows’ beaks shattering against the door, caused Osiris to instinctively shove his body as far back as he possible could; uncomfortably there was no more than two and a half feet of room within. Caws, and the scraping of claws and beaks quickly destroying his only safe guard, drowned out any thoughts he tried to conceive. Within, his mind had grown stubbornly silent, as though all he knew of life were nothing but a blank memory.

Above he heard the shattering of glass, no doubt from the remaining windows on the second floor, resulting from another flock descending upon him.

Alone in the dark, with the constant banging of death screaming for his long awaited greeting, Osiris forced himself to sit down to the best of his abilities, leaving but an inch of space between his knees and the rattling door within the confined space. After years of conditioning, he just needed the right source. Pulling in a slow, deep breath to steady his rapidly beating heart, the echoes of the moment began to fade; repeating this method, he continued until a burning sensation grew in the depths of his belly.  Slowing his thoughts down more, the warmth began swiftly sweltering into an unbearable heat. Amidst his third breath, a sudden shift in pitches forced Osiris’s mind back into the confined shelter.

Inches from his eyes, the weak slab of wood that separated him from death, was chipping, cracking and splintering away under the constant violent impacts from of the crows. Squirming, pecking at one another to be the first to taste the fresh meat, a few managed to squeeze their tiny heads through, leaving no more than a foot and a half between them and Osiris. Beating their wings violently for that extra reach, beaks open to taste hot flesh. Raising his hands forward, Osiris could feel the winds from the dozens of flapping wings against his palms as he shouted out, “Archaiczny Ignis!”

A symbol known well to the sorcerer burned to life atop and within the palm of each hand, varieties of colors springing to life before his eyes. Violets, blues, greens, reds, and oranges, flickered and spat at the crows feathers and the interior of the broom closet, engulfing all in a raging fire. The barrage of caws heightened to that of screams, fear becoming their new hysteria. Those closest were instantly silenced by the spontaneous flames.

Taking his time and stepping lightly out from the broom closet, Osiris waved his hands in every direction while heading for the remains of the front door. Wave after wave of the convulsing inferno irradiated from his palms; he planned to leave the abandoned home consumed in a typhoon of fire. The walls took to flame instantly, fueled by whatever oil had been used to seal the paint to the wood. Burning goose feathers rained down amongst black, burnt corpses, resulting from the erupting couch engulfed in a flash. Above, the ceiling threatened to collapse. Its groans growing louder amongst the raging fire’s roars as it tore its way up the tight staircase. The dozens of birds that never escaped became burning obstacles for the sorcerer to be extra mindful of while making his way out from burning inferno.

-.-.-

A quarter mile from the burning farm house, no longer frozen to the bone, for the warmth he acquired from a dry cloak he’d discovered in a small barn beside the house was easing the ache in his strained muscles. Turning to face the fires of his retribution, Osiris was greeted with a long drawn out groan resonating from the crackling fire, as he stood and watched the beacon he’d sought answers from barely an hour prior, become a burning torch for the world to see. From the distance he’d already made, the flames were already quite bright, and were only growing brighter by the minute, fueled heavily by a steady wind that had slowly stolen the land. Osiris could just make out the bits of burning ash raining down around it, he were reminded of little fireflies.

Not wishing to see what else nature had in mind for him, Osiris turned to a path barely noticeable beneath the snow, when a wonder passed through his mind, sending a shiver running down his spine, at the mere thought as to what sort of other monstrosities lay beyond the surrounding tree’s edges, answering the call of the fires light. Off to his left, he spotted another murder of crows, their attentions turned only to their feast.

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