Chapter 1:
1932, Chicago
Rain fell like shards of glass as 17-year-old Elijah Creed walked alone through the darkened rail yard. His hands were clenched in his coat pockets, his breath visible in the cold night air. He had just lost another street fight—not because he was weak, but because he held back. He was always told to keep his anger inside.
That’s when he saw it.
A dead crow lying stiff in the middle of the road. Its feathers soaked and eyes open, staring into nothing. Something inside Elijah snapped. The bird reminded him of the laws that haunted his people. Jim Crow. The symbol of pain. Of fear.
He spat near the bird’s body and kicked it hard across the wet ground.
Then, the world stopped.
The wind silenced. The air froze. A deep, echoing voice came from the shadows behind the trees.
“Speak your desire… Elijah Creed.”
Elijah turned, eyes wide. “Who’s there?”
“You are angry. Speak it. What does your blood crave?”
Elijah swallowed, heart pounding.
“I want my bloodline… to be the greatest. Stronger than kings. Unstoppable.”
There was silence. Then a low, inhuman chuckle.
“Granted.”
A cold gust of wind slammed into him. Flocks of crows shrieked from the trees and vanished into the night.
Elijah stood there, breathless. Something in him had changed.
That night, he didn’t sleep.
By the next week, his strength grew unnaturally. His speed became unmatched. By 1934, he was Illinois's boxing prodigy. By 1936, a national champion. But it came with a price.
Crows began following him. He heard whispers when no one was there. Mirrors cracked around him. He was haunted by black wings and voices chanting in dreams.
On October 13, 1956, Elijah was found dead in a gym at midnight, collapsed on the ring floor, surrounded by over 100 dead crows.
No one knew why. No one dared ask.
But his bloodline remembered.
