Crowe's Reckoning (On Hiatus)

“Those of us who shift do not do so lightly. We do it because we must. Because we were born into corners too small for our souls. Because the world slammed its doors and told us to choose a side, a name, a shape—and we chose all. Call it deceit if you must. Call it blasphemy. But I call it survival. I call it memory, aching to be free.”

– “Shadows that Shift” by Norell Vaen

Bastian

When Lochlan — when she left — I left, too.

Through that jagged tear in the College’s shield, right before Auric’s fire roared across the sea and lit the enemy fleet like kindling, I slipped through.

Not as a soldier. Not as a commander. But as a crow.

Small. Fast. Forgettable. And desperate.

A little crow, chasing what felt impossible. Chasing her.

I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. I just moved, wings lashing the wind, every beat pounding out a rhythm I couldn’t silence: Find her. Find her. Find her.

Because I had watched her go.

Watched those strangers — Kalina, who claimed to be her sister, and that pale bastard Draeven — pull her into the sky.

And she’d gone with them. Willing or not, I didn’t know. But I had to. I had to know.

She had wings. She had wings.

They’d torn through her back like some ancient truth waking up, like her body remembered something her mind didn’t. She was Fae. Or part of her was. Which meant she was never just Lochlan.She was more. She was Evie.

But she hadn’t remembered that name when Kalina whispered it like a spell. She’d looked at her like a stranger. She’d looked at me like an anchor.

She’d said she loved me.

And gods help me, that one moment — that one truth — had to be real. Because if it wasn’t, none of this made sense. None of it meant anything.

The wind buffeted me, sharp and cold. I cut through it anyway, wings aching, feathers slick with storm. Below me, the world blurred into nothing but forest and fog, cliffs and sea. No signs of her. No trace of where they’d taken her.

Not even her scent.

She’d vanished, slipped through the air like she was never mine at all.

And I kept flying because I didn’t know how not to.Because staying would mean admitting I couldn’t follow. That I couldn’t fix it.

But even the crow had limits.

When my wings gave out, I fell hard — spiraling, crashing into the earth like punishment. The shift slammed through me, bones cracking, feathers splitting into fur and claw and something darker. Something primal. Something I barely held control of anymore.

The barghest.

The beast didn’t grieve. It didn’t doubt. It didn’t ache like I did.It raged.

I hit the ground snarling, my claws raking into the dirt as my vision sharpened, painted everything in red and grey. The scent of Fae drifted nearby — faint, but arrogant enough to be within reach of the College’s gates.

Too bold. Too soon. Too close.

The barghest lunged without hesitation.

I didn’t plan. I didn’t warn. I didn’t stop until they were gone.

Flesh tore. Bone snapped. Their screams disappeared into silence, drowned beneath the sound of my own growl and the crack of skulls hitting stone. I tore them apart — not just because they were a threat, but because they were there.

Because they weren’t her.

When it was over, I stood amidst a ruin of limbs and blood, and none of it mattered. I didn’t even remember how many there were. Faces blurred. Names lost. Only hers remained.

Lochlan.

I shifted again, slipping into the crow’s form like it might save me, like it might let me outrun what I’d done. But feathers didn’t fix anything. They just gave the illusion of distance.

And distance wasn’t enough.

She was still gone. I was still hollow.

So I flew again. Over cliffs, through trees, across rivers. Further. Harder. Longer than I should’ve.

Until the shield and the College and the chaos became a faint hum at my back. Until my wings trembled with exhaustion. Until the only thing left was the memory of her face as she pulled away.

“I love you,” she’d whispered.

Three perfect words. And the final nail in the coffin.

Because she hadn’t said them to stay. She’d said them to leave.

I landed in a clearing I didn’t recognize, the air thick with pine and smoke, the edges of the world soft with dusk. My body shifted again, too tired to resist the cycle. Fur replaced feather. The barghest returned.

The pain of it didn’t even register. I welcomed it. The pain reminded me I hadn’t broken completely.

Yet.

I paced the clearing, claws dragging grooves into the earth. I couldn’t rest. Couldn’t think. Every memory of her hit like a blade.

Her power had always been wild — unrefined, untrained. Like the storm itself answered to her, like the vines that wrapped around her wrists knew she was never just mortal.

And still, she’d fought with us. For us. Still, she’d kissed me like it meant everything.

She’d whispered she’d come back. But promises don’t mean anything when they’re buried beneath wings and bloodlines and betrothals you don’t remember.

Betrothed. Gods.

That word still gutted me.

That silver-haired fuck stood beside her like he owned her. And maybe in the world she came from, he did. Maybe he had some claim I’d never be able to touch. But she’d looked at me when she said it. Looked at me when she said she loved someone.

So why wasn’t she here? Why did she go?

The barghest growled again, pacing in violent circles, teeth bared to no one. I didn’t try to stop it. What was the point?

The forest didn’t answer. The wind didn’t change.There were no signs. No trail. No hint.

Just me. A beast wearing a man’s grief, and not even doing that well.

I didn’t know how long I stayed out there. Time unraveled. Night bled into day, day into dusk. I shifted over and over — crow, barghest, crow, barghest — like maybe if I kept changing, I wouldn’t have to feel the shape of her absence anymore.

But it always came back.

Because I wasn’t just missing her.

I was missing a version of myself that only existed when she was near.The one that felt human. The one that wanted something more than war and duty and blood.

She made me believe there was more.

And now?

Now I didn’t know who the hell I was. Just that I couldn’t go back.

Not until I found her.

Lochlan.

My Lochlan.

Evie.

Whatever name she answered to — whatever blood ran through her veins, whatever storm had claimed her — she was mine.

And I would find her.

No matter what it cost.