It murmurs to me, whispering with myriad voices at once in my senses, reality, the living vibration of all things, never staying still for a single moment yet in every single moment all things come together as one and so this murmuring, whispering noise becomes a constant crescendo echoing around the void in which I lay. Yet even though my existence is filled with this constant sound, I lay at peace in the knowledge that all things must come to an end when the purpose is fulfilled and my master’s creation reaches its fruition.
So many aeons of life have passed me by yet here I lay, ever watchful, patiently awaiting those times of prophecy and destiny where I can venture out and express the powers that were bestowed upon me so long ago when I was brought into mine own existence for the greater good of the light.
A familiar voice creaks through the void now, it has been heard before many times, that descending tone of the dark, the anticlimactic depression that is more breath than word yet holds the power to collapse the soul as it cloys to every part of the lives it watches.
I know him, that servant of the nether regions, the darkness, even Rojha, demon lord and sucker of the living. I, Blackcrow, was created to be the source of all knowledge and thus was every being and spirit made known to me though no creation could ever not know that voice of the dark, Rojha for he is everywhere in shadow of the light and cannot go unknown.
Yet I hear him now, stronger now than for many, many times. This disturbs me so I must turn my attention to it. He is on the prowl, serving evil, destroying, cloying, pulling down a life and attempting to claim a soul.
I listen to his dulcet, murmurations and follow them to their source with the transcendence of mine own spirit. Gateway after gateway through the void I travel; galaxy after galaxy and star after star do I pass. Through nebulae known and unknown, searching, following, hot on the trail of the source of darkness, Rojha until at last I find the spiteful, hideous demon lurking near that favoured planet of my master, even the Earth.
I see him though I know he sees me not, he is as yet unaware of my arousal or presence. I stay hidden in the folds of the fabric of the void, those places between the reality and the unreality (for all things are a slave to the comparative law of creation) and Rojha’s own stubborn pride stops him from looking round for he is fully focused on the prey that I now observe is a human soul.
I wait thus, for the moment, to observe, to learn, to await the given moment when I may strike.