People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with the soul and the soul can't rest. And sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.
A winged shadow, in the mortal shape of an earth-born bird, takes flight over a sunless and suffering city. Beneath its glistening wings great fires reach up with greedy flame fingers, but it flies on in unperturbed passage through the rain-wet sky, and in a voiceless whisper calls:
Come. Follow me. It is time.
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