Chapter 2317 - 104: Crow's Prophecy VII

Istrael slowly rotated the sword blade, letting Morning Light pass through the lightly floating dust, illuminating the blade forged from Cold Steel. The metallic glow was like a mirror, reflecting a thin, serious face with sharp, brown eyes. He silently observed it, then gently drew the sword from the rack, raising a wisp of smoke and dust.

On the flashing ridge of the sword, fire-forged inscriptions were carved, emitting a hue like Golden Flame in the darkness: 'Blood flows like a river, raven whispers linger; the Storm has arrived, longships will draw near—', followed by an ancient surname and name '—Edwin Cleworth'.

He sheathed the sword, slipping it into the Sword Sheath wrapped in black leather, adorned with an emblem of a spreading-winged Raven. The sword hung on the harness, beneath which was a black coat and Chainmail, emitting a heavy friction sound of fabric and metal when walking.

The bakery owner donned deerskin gloves, walked through the hall, and in the darkness, swarms of giant rats with long tails passed through the narrow Light cast by the skylight, as if accompanying the footsteps of the master's tread, making a rustling sound. The barren years had arrived, and these creatures born in darkness grew inexplicably fat and shiny.

Istrael walked to the Door, took the gray trench coat hanging on the doorknob, draped it over himself, fastened the cloak, and the low brim of the hat hid his face. He pushed open the Door, and the Light between the dark clouds suddenly flooded into the dim room, causing the small creatures to scatter with screams, as the bakery owner raised his head, bathing in this Morning Light.

He remained silent for a moment, silently watching the shifting Light between the clouds, then after a while, raised his right hand, gently pressing the corner of his eyebrow with his index and middle fingers.

"Is it almost time?"

He moved his lips slightly, questioning as if talking to himself.

A huge Raven flapped its wings down from the eaves, perched on his shoulder, with blood-colored eyes reflecting the man's stubbled side face. Under the edge of the hood, there was a small claw-shaped scar at the corner of the eyebrow.

As if in response to his question, the scar suddenly became burning hot, even through the thick gloves, it seemed enough to pain a person. Istrael suddenly let go, raising his eyebrows, and involuntarily recalled that somewhat interesting boy.

He gave a faint smile, lowered his head, closed the Door, and walked forward. Looking very much like a Swordsman, in a thick coat, one man and one sword, the long cloak draped over him, gradually disappearing at the end of the alley.

Few saw his departure, much like how years later, the residents here gradually forgot, this place once had a bakery and a taciturn owner.

A timid young girl, with an interesting young boy.

...

"You mean Abigail hasn't returned?"

"Miss Shaye, someone saw Abigail leaving with the other side, I mean, he might not have gone to that inn at all."

Shaya's face bore a heavy, tired expression as she lifted the tent and came out to face the visitor. She of course understood what the other person meant by 'the other side', for this campsite she was just an Outsider as well.

More and more people were willing to stand by her side, but not everyone was pleased to see it. The division between the parties had long emerged, yet unspoken among themselves.

"What did you say?"

"I said, Abigail didn't listen to your order to find Mr. Ade."

"But if he didn't seek out Ade," Shaya asked, "then how did Ade find us?"

"This…we're not sure, Miss Shaye." The two messengers also looked bewildered.

In the silent snowy forest, a few unnamed birds fluttered down, shaking off a layer of snow from the tall pines. Shaya raised her head to look around the Forest, feeling a bit silent, with an ever-present sense of foreboding.

"They…" she hesitated and asked: "I mean the people on the other side, where did they go yesterday?"

"They went to the town."

"Why wasn't I informed?"

The two messengers looked at each other, hesitantly saying: "Miss Shaye, there are still many in the camp willing to believe them. After all, before you came…"

"I understand," Shaya interrupted them, "there's no need to say more." A heavy sense of dizziness struck, turning her unease into something palpable.

She bit her lip, appearing unusually pale, having not eaten for two days, making her feel markedly dizzy and heavy-headed. "Miss Shaye, are you alright?" The two looked at her expression, asking with a bit of concern.

Shaya shook her head, took a deep breath, and unsteadily stepped back, but her foot gave way, causing her to lose balance and fall backward.

At that moment, she felt as if the entire world was sinking before her, followed by a dizzying spin, and in her rotating view, she saw the two people rushing towards her with alarmed expressions, their mouths opening and closing as if anxiously calling her name.

Yet she only heard a severe buzzing in her ears, overwhelming every sound in the world, she only felt someone grabbing her, shouting her name loudly.