The Girl and the Crow - Part 4
She put one boot on the first step.
The crow snapped its wings open.
“Careful.”
“You brought me here.”
“I brought the key.”
“That’s not different.”
“It is very different.”
The voice came again, lower now.
“Don’t leave me down here.”
Elara took another step. The air grew colder at once. The churchyard above seemed to pull away from her, the mist and stones shrinking into a pale square of night. The crow followed, hopping step by step along the wall.
At the bottom of the stairs was a passage lined with niches. Some held bones wrapped in gray cloth. Some held jars sealed with black wax. Some were empty, though Elara felt watched by every one of them.
At the end of the passage, a lantern burned with a blue flame.
Beside it stood a door made of wood so dark it looked wet. Carved into it were dozens of small birds, all of them crows, their beaks open in silent warning.
The voice came from behind that door.
“Elara.”
She moved toward it before she meant to.
The crow flew in front of her face, forcing her to stop.
“Listen badly and die quickly,” it said.
Elara stared at it. “What?”
“Listen well.”
Behind the door, the voice changed.
It was still her mother’s voice, but now it laughed.
Not kindly.
The sound crawled over the stones and settled against Elara’s skin.
“My sweet girl,” it said. “You have her eyes.”
Elara stepped back.
Her mother had never called her that.
Not once.
The crow landed on the lantern hook, its feathers blue at the edges from the strange flame.
“Names are hooks,” it said. “Voices are bait.”
Elara looked down at the key in her hand. It had gone cold.
Behind the door, something dragged one nail across the wood from the other side.
Slowly.
Patiently.
“Elara,” it whispered again, no longer trying quite so hard to sound like someone she loved. “Open.”
Belladusk
"Friend to Crows and Strange Things"