Seeing Ravens
Growing up, Xoran always thought that the world outside couldn't be all that bad. After all, the world hadn't really ended all those years ago, had it? He figured that, once you were far enough away from the slowly spinning star in the center of the city, you could look up at the night sky proper. Wanderlust took him over as his vision spun with the heavens above. He dreamed of the twinkling stars, the bright sister moons, and finding his older brother, Hollas. He always wanted to -
"Oh, right... Hollas," he thought. He hasn't been home in over a year from his expedition to that ruin some miles out from the city. He went with some of the best of the best though, right? Theres no way he could be - questions race through Xoran's mind as he stares up at the plaster ceiling from the relative comfort of his warm bed. A gentle, almost not audible rapping could be heard from his bedroom door, and moments later a short, plump figure slowly pushes it open. A dim and flickering light floats into the room as he hears his mother's saccharine voice fill the still morning air,
"Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"
Rolling over in bed to face the door, a drowsy and thought laden hand drags at the blanket covering him. Xoran blinks once, then twice, seeming to take a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden exposure to light. A single strand of golden hair falls over his thin face as he sits up in bed. Licking his sleep-dried lips, he replies in an equally parched voice,
"What time is it, Ma?"
As the question escaped him, the grandfather clock in the living room began its chiming. Once, twice, all the way to six times in a row without cessation. "Ugh, there's no way its already six!", he thought. Begrudgingly, he swings himself out of the comfort of his bed and onto the cold, polished stone floor. The reflection of the candle light bouncing from the floor illuminates the room further, revealing a wall full of academic trophies, certificates, and a painting of Xoran being held by his older brother. On the opposite wall sits an old, oaken dresser with a small mirror sat atop it. His mother, as matter-of-factly as a mother could do after an old clock already answered for him, stated,
"It's six in the morning, dear. Go ahead and get dressed, breakfast will be done here shortly!"
To Xoran, the rest of the morning seemed to be little more than a blur of faces, colors, and half-baked promises to his mother that he would be on his best behavior while at class. On his way out of their home that morning, the last thing Xoran remembers was seeing a crow, no, a raven perched on a sign across the street. Seeing the corvid made him a bit uneasy, as they were usually harbingers of otherworldly forces - or, so his history class had taught him. He learned from Professor McDonnigan that corvids went extinct during the Lightfall, but, here he was... staring at one.
At least, that is what he remembered. When he hit his head after falling in that crypt, everything got so... fuzzy. Everything started coming back to him now - lying to the guard at the gates, following the map he stole from that guild member, using a rusty sword he found in the crypt his brother went to, trying to fight that animated skeleton on the mossy stairs leading ever further down. Yes, it was all coming back to him now in this dark, endless space he now found himself in. A number of stars seemed to twinkle far, far off in the distance. Suddenly, a voice that seemed too powerful, too heavy, and too solemn to be human boomed from all around him,
"I hope it wasn't too painful, my dear Xoran. It was the best outcome, if that brings any peace of mind."
The voice, as it talked, seemed to smooth itself out like warm honey and it filled the entirety of his mind. It sounded as if the voice cared for him, but he doesn't recognize it. He started going through the list of people he knew mentally as he sat up and looked around. Immediately behind him stood a man in all black, wearing what looked to be well-worn leather armor covered by a large mantle of feathers. Beneath a grim hood sat a mask in the shape of a corvid - a raven. Two dull, red eyes glowed from beneath the mask, but they seemed to radiate compassion instead of the malice one would expect such eyes to convey. The figure carried a massive, brown tome under one arm; a long and trailing bookmark flowed out from its pages, almost coiling infront of him like a snake. Xoran blinked in disbelief; did he just die?!
"To answer your question, Xoran, yes. You unfortunately met a brutal end before your proper time - something that can be said for many."
The deep, hoarse voice softened now to almost a whisper. Xoran felt his eyes frantically scan the man infront of him as the words poured out from behind the mask. The two red dots set deep within what he now recognized as The Plumebearer's facade seemed to blink as he outstretched his arms, almost as if to embrace him in a fatherly hug. Xoran could feel what could only be the floodgates opening behind his eyes, as two tears streamed down his pale cheeks. The man gestured to Xoran, and he obliged, letting the figure's arms wrap around him. Death pulled him in for a tight squeeze, and from beneath the veneer came a reassuring whisper,
"You will be seeing your brother soon, Xoran. I can promise you that much. Now, would you care for a story that none have heard before?"
Sniffling, snot and mucus and tears all streaming down his crumpled face, Xoran nodded a quick and shaky 'yes'. Releasing the sweet embrace of death, The Plumebearer waved a hand and two, worn wooden chairs appeared in the space around them. Death took his seat, and motioned for him to do the same. Again, he obliged. What else was he going to do, defy Death? Yes, actually. Doing exactly that, he looks behind him, and sees it - the broken, crumpled, and bloodied body that he once considered his own was laying flat on its stomach. His emerald eyes, or, what used to be his eyes, lay vacant and still. What used to be his left ear was mangled and the tip of its Elvish point was missing. His nose was squished, broken, and bent in two different directions he didn't even know was possible. Wavering, he looked back at Death and, through the veil of wet greif, asked,
"Will Ma ever know? I can't just... leave her like that; losing both her sons with no closure."
Death looked upon the young Elf with a sort of tenderness that would normally not be able to be expressed through a mask, but Xoran felt it anyway. The red eyes seemed to soften as he spoke in that low, honey-covered-gravel tone,
"If that is your final request, that can be arranged. It would not be the first time I've done at least that much for an unfortunate soul."
Xoran's eyes steeled themselves and closed the dam, and the tears seemed to slow. The mucus began to dry after its minutes-long tirade had drained down his face. He nodded absentmindedly, and without looking up, he managed to squeek out as he took his seat across from Death,
"Can I hear that story now, mister uh... Plumebearer?"
Mid-way through his question, Death had already brought up the heavy tome and set it in his lap. Opening the dusty cover, his hands parsed through the ancient pages contained within. At a glance, none of the words on there made any sense to Xoran. The words didn't even seem to be a language he recognized from his Ethnic Languages 101 course. After a moment, Death paused and rested a gauntleted finger on a page. While Xoran could not see the visage expertly hidden behind the veneer of that raven's mask, he could tell a smile was spreading across the entity's face. Slowly, and in that same low, gravel-covered-in-honey voice Xoran was becoming more accustomed to, The Fablewing began,
"Have you ever heard of Hollas The Bold?"
There's a lot of good worldbuilding here. You're really good at dropping important worldbuilding info into the story without bogging things down, which I never feel I'm very good at. It's easy to follow, though I did notice you switch between past and present tense.
Thank you! This was actually my first short/color story I'd written on WA, and I'm sure my inexperience shows through a bit, especially with tenses. Glad you enjoyed it regardless :D