𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐮𝐬🥀

It was a night none shall forget. It was but vigorous shadows of crashing storms fighting against one and all and stopping at nothing to consume all remaining brilliance of good. It was a show filled with utterly lusty clatter of extravagant winds and weaving clouds mashing into their dancing partners. The thunderous roars of graying clouds effortlessly drowned all scenic sounds that once sang in euphony. It was a heavenly mess of treacherous fury, a rampage of forgotten redemption and shattered tolerance overshadowing all that was once known in both mind and matter.

Shimmering pellets of tears ignited and spilled from the endlessly tragic sky. Dis-shapely clouds indecisively moved to please the violent, unruly winds that overtook all that was once genuine. The smell of vexation drowned the aura of water and the taste of unmistakable bitterness was intertwined with the winds.

“A wrath of god,” the people announce without a hint of uncertainty. It could not be missed, could not be confused, and could not be overlooked. The ground, which was now littered with feathers of black and ravens of myth, ran from below all stepping feet. Screams were believed to have been easily drowned by the crashing of clouds in the realm of the gods. A god's rage remains unmistakable.

The prophet Apollo warned of a raven's wrath. His inky feathers telling of his deceptive intent and dreadful luck. His eyes, a golden eclipse that reigned dangerous beauty, casted with them an unchancy dishevelment upon the mortal world. Their day of unappeasable destruction was made impossible to miss by the kinetic clouds viciously swirling with the winds. The winds echoed the sounding name held by the spiteful god of storm and rain.

“Corvus,” the wind was rumored to have whispered under its destructive breath. “Oh, how far you have fallen, my dear Icarus.” It was unmistakable that Corvus was to be blamed for the catastrophic, tumultuous storm circling above the world.

It remains common knowledge that joyful stories of myth are feverishly shared with youth. Stories such as enchanting daisies in cattle fields on clear and sunny days. For all that, Corvus is a mudded carcass, billowing in showers of spitting, self-loathing rain. A tale of treachery and disheartened doting. An explosive, ruckus story that none like to spread for the sake of rationality. Thus, fret not if you find yourself uncertain of Corvus’ daunting tale, for you are but one upon millions more.

All was uncertainly sure as the sun was darkened upon that indistinct time and place. It was a day doomed to be forgotten yet never gone from within a soul's mind. That clouded, sunny day was shadowed by the moon's dried tears of saddened joy. A forgotten place when all made illogical sense.

A crow. A raven. A blackened bird of sorrow and misfortune. Apollo’s prophetic messengers of untold wisdom and visions, cursed with knowledge and doomed for tragedy. Weighted eternally with ancient wisdom that courses painfully through them, intelligence overlooked for generations from all. The greatest burden fell upon their feathered backs of old. Each handcrafted with the greatest tribulations and sorrows of mankind, each handcrafted with blurringly active wings designed with the heavy burden of taking mankind's mental splinters as far away from them as possible. Further than any human could reach alone. They are but holders of woe and collectors of proficiency.

Corvus was once no different. Created by Apollo with not a speck of care, and predisposed to be but another disheartened keeper of harrowing troubles. Perhaps he was created too swiftly, maybe with just a hint of tenderness. Whatever the reason may be, this soon-to-be-vengeful god all too briskly became rejectful of his duties. Corvus seemed to have gained a conscience far greater than those of his people, one that made him far more predisposed to reject his role as a bearer of the splinters that pain humanity's mind.

Instructed by Apollo to collect water from the local waterway, the bird flew a little ways west in its direction. Obedience was within his nature, handcrafted with ease into his mind from the day he was made. Stubbornness was an accidental carve in his creation; it was a mistake now too deep to erase. Amongst the greenery of the lively forest, below his talons, stood a plump fig tree. Its branches reached out in all directions for Corvus, calling for the stubbornness in him as though it were an old friend.

With one confident swoop, he had found himself atop the trees glimmering leaves of viridescent green. A sting of disappointment made itself known when he realized the tree was all but able to produce any fruit of figs, far too young for this sort of capability. As his stubbornness spoke to him, louder than the commands of his creator, he found himself stuck upon the branches of this newfound tree.

Against his creator's demands to retrieve water for him, Corvus remained stapled in place on the tree’s strengthening branches. An act of defiance and individuality. Many may wonder what drew him to commit such an act. The answer is quite a simple one. Corvus merely decided at that moment that he would much prefer to wait for months, if not years, upon that tree in hopes of retrieving its first fig. He much rather wait than continue on his destined journey of collecting his master's water. Perhaps it was an act of hunger, perhaps it was fate playing its part, or perhaps Corvus was far more brilliant than what was meant to be and knew what the outcome was to be. Whatever the reason, the outcome remains the same.

Corvus is a god fuelled by nothing but envy, rage, despair, and the need to do what he desires while knowing full well it shall never happen. With each passing day, his internal conflicts grow increasingly stronger than the last. Ravens are created to carry humanity’s burdens. Corvus was created to carry his own.

It was a night none shall forget. It was but vigorous shadows of crashing storms fighting against one and all and stopping at nothing to consume all remaining brilliance of good. A swirling storm to misfitted birds of black.