awaicu » Hibernal Den » Corona

Corona

(#16133263)

There is no escape | she/her

Familiar

Death Seeker

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

22.46 m

Wingspan

22.16 m

Weight

7875.23 kg

Genetics

Obsidian
Crystal

Gold
Facet

Gold
Glimmer

Hatchday

Aug 22, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Light
Common

Level 1 Imperial

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

C O R O N A^♫

SENDER OF INVITATIONS

╭━━━━━━━━╮

R E L A T I O N S
THE ROYAL COUNCIL

_MASTER

_MATE

_{GRANDDAUGHTER}

╰━━━━━━━━╯

╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
". . ."
╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯

Dark drakes clustered within the golden room, and the air was filled with quiet sounds: turning pages, a quill scratching against parchment, and the rustle of feathers...even though no birds could be seen. “Shall I read to you, Corona?” the Wildclaw asked.

“Please do.” The Imperial’s eyes warmed, and she smiled briefly....It faded as she immersed herself in her task. She wrote huge letters on a magic slate, and the same text appeared on the smaller parchments at her elbow: Greetings. It is on behalf of the Cathedral of Eyes...

Elias turned the pages of the book. “Ah, an interesting tale. It is a legend of crows, explaining how they became so knowledgeable.” A voice that was not his briefly broke through his words, and the Imperial’s answering smile flickered cynical — and knowing. The Arbiter began to read....

“The Lightweaver crafted crows out of pure light. In the beginning they were whiter even than snow, brilliant living stars crisscrossing the sky...”

Corona’s own beginnings were a great deal humbler — she had been born on Sundial Terrace, on a patch of land near the sea. Her father left when Corona was still young, promising to bring wealth back to them. Corona vaguely remembered standing atop the cliff with her mother, watching for his ship. To pass the time they counted seabirds or watched the clouds change....Months went by until eventually, without really thinking about, Corona turned away and ceased waiting for him to return.

She joined her mother in working the land. What it yielded was barely enough to sustain them, and it didn’t help that every time they harvested something, birds swarmed down seemingly out of nowhere to feast on the crops. “The crows are stealing our food!” Young Corona was beside herself with fury. Her mother agreed, but her golden eyes were speculative, alight with ideas and possibilities. That was something Corona admired about her: the ability to extract something good from a bad situation.

Soon after that, they trapped some of the crows. And they began training them — the birds eventually realized that if they went along with the dragons, they would get shelter and sustenance every day. They became willing students, the first messenger birds Corona had ever seen. Her hatred of the crows faded; she now treated them as friends and wondered where her mother had gotten the idea of training them as messengers.

Her mother explained, “I once spent some time in the Southern Icefield — it’s all too easy to get lost there. My parents’ clan used crows as messengers. Crows are very intelligent, and they perceive things we dragons can’t. Out in the Southern Icefield, they could be relied on to deliver messages swiftly and safely.” As Corona snuggled closer, the Nocturne added, “You know, an old story says that long ago, the Lightweaver created crows. The great goddess was as curious then as she is now, and she sent her crows all over Sornieth...”

“The crows went everywhere and saw many things. When dragonkind began raising their civilizations, the crows came there, too. They were as intelligent and keen as their creator, eager to learn about these strange new beings...”

Corona and her mother used the crows to send messages to dragons in the lowlands. These dragons noticed how intelligent and well-trained the birds were....Soon a message was received from a shopkeeper: Thank you for ordering from my shop! —P.S. You wouldn’t be up to selling some of those birds, would you? I could use a couple to help deliver my invoices.

Corona’s mother replied favorably, and next week, the Snapper came huffing and puffing up Sundial Terrace. He stayed on the farm for a few days as Corona and her mother helped him bond with his new helpers. Eventually he was ready to go; he thanked the birdkeepers effusively and left them with a promise: “I’ll recommend your wonderful messengers to all my business partners. Just you wait — business will boom up here!”

His words did come true, in part. The buyers were usually dragons who weren’t comfortable with using magic or technology to communicate, and they spent a few days on the farmstead, learning to command the crows. There were never many clients; nonetheless, Corona was very happy with her life. On this peaceful farm, she had everything she needed, and the visitors who came told thrilling tales of the lands beyond. Corona listened, wide-eyed and curious, as they told of cities carved out of coral reefs, fortresses floating in the clouds, or palaces of hide and bone. It was amazing to think that the crows could fly so far from this humble farm and see such wondrous things....

“Yet the crows were curious — too curious. They saw the small wonders that dragonkind created, things that glittered and shone, and they coveted these things for themselves. They clustered around the dragons’ homes, waited until those lovely artifacts were unguarded...and what they could carry, they stole.

“When the dragons discovered that the crows were responsible for the thefts, they prayed to the Lightweaver for aid. The Lightweaver was incensed to learn that her servants, who had been tasked with collecting knowledge, had instead become petty thieves. And so, on a day as bright as a diamond, she summoned the crows. They left the ground in waves of brilliant light. The Lightweaver let them come to her, and she struck them down...”

When Corona was barely grown, a hard summer enveloped the land. The earth baked in the sunlight; the air shimmered with so many heatwaves that it was impossible to tell the color of the sky. Corona’s mother soon fell ill. The crows clucked uneasily as Corona moved around their aviary, making sure they were well-fed before she returned to her mother’s side.

Days passed with no relief. The Imperial knew that she needed aid, and when dawn broke the next day, she sent her birds away. Each bore a message, requests for aid from healers and physicians.

Morning came. Corona tended to her mother; after that, she went to the aviary. Any crows that had returned earlier would roost there. She opened the door to the enclosure — and stared, dumbfounded, at the feathered corpses strewn across the floor.

“Forgive me. I cannot help you.” The physician didn’t dare meet Corona’s eyes. She hurried away, launching herself into the air as soon as she was clear of the building. She was the latest in a string of healers and veterinarians who had tried to help Corona’s mother and the birds. There were many guesses on what had caused the illness, and many cures had been tried, but nothing had worked.

Corona’s mother lay in bed, unable to walk without aid. And the birds were nearly gone. She’d separated them into smaller flocks and moved them to different enclosures, and yet death had pursued them. It had been horrendous, opening the doors to black mounds of feathers, some still twitching feebly upon the floor. There’d only been eight birds left last night. There would be fewer of them today.

Corona knew she had to complete the autumn harvest if she and her mother were to survive the winter. Perhaps once spring came, everything would be better.... “Or we’ll all be dead,” an ugly doubt hissed in her mind as she opened the enclosure door.

With her great paws she scooped up the feathered corpses, poured them into a sack. She tried not to count them, but a part of her mind did, mockingly: “Five...six...seven...” The entire flock was dead — except one. The sight of the remaining crow, sitting solitary and alone on his perch, wrenched at Corona’s heart. After disposing of his dead nestmates, she turned to carry him back into the lair. “At least he will not die alone.”

Out in the sunlight, the crow blinked. It croaked at her, seemingly asking a question.

“I haven’t got extra food today,” Corona mumbled. She squinted up at the sun. “I’d best get to work—”

The crow fluttered to a nearby fencepost. That gave Corona pause. When the crows caught the illness, they became nearly immobile, hunching until they toppled, rigid and lifeless, to the ground. This one could not only fly, its eyes remained lively and bright. It cawed again, more urgently this time.

“I’ve sent messages to everyone I can think of. No one can help.” But Corona’s voice died away as she spoke. In the early days of the illness, she’d sent out all her crows — including this one, she was sure. It had carried a letter...for whom? The name escaped her. He had come back without a reply after...how many days? Weeks? Perhaps months?

“Where did I send you? Where did you go?” she murmured. And, as the crow cawed again, “Where are you going?”

“There’s still time; winter hasn’t come yet. The world is wide, and perhaps beyond the Ruins, there’s someone who can help.” And she remembered her mother’s words: “Crows are very intelligent. They perceive things we dragons can’t...”

In a few days the market vendors would arrive with supplies — perhaps she could be back by then. She hurried into the lair. Behind her, the crow took to the sky.

Her mother stirred uneasily. “Corona...dear...are you well?”

“Yes, Mama, I just need to get something.” Corona scooped food and waterskins into a bag before hurrying to the bedside.

“You’re working so hard. You should rest....”

“Thank you, Mama. I will be back soon.” She nuzzled her mother’s brow, and then she left the lair.

She soon caught up to the crow. It gave her a brief glance before adjusting its course. Higher and higher it went, till it disappeared into a great white cloud, and Corona followed it.

They flew for what seemed like hours. The crow was a black dot in the air, often hidden from view by the cloud vapors. Corona’s scales prickled. She was sure that by now she was far from home. She dipped briefly below the cloud....

She gasped aloud. The landscape below her was untamed, dark forest surrounding yawning glades. Razor-sharp mountains raked the heavens; in the distance, she glimpsed a churning, steel-gray sea. “Are we still in the Ruins?! Surely we couldn’t have flown that far!”

The crow followed the twisted spine of the mountains. Corona followed it towards the sea, and what she saw now pulled a cry of awe from her: a tree, mighty and mist-shrouded, rose to pierce the very clouds. It made Corona dizzy just to look at it; how could something be so huge?

It dwarfed the cathedral at its foot, a stone structure carved from the cliff itself. The crow descended before it, and Corona crouched nearby, feeling very small. It took much of her courage to knock upon the doors.

There was movement inside, something huge...shifting...A gigantic black Imperial opened the door. Despite his dapper garb, he looked down at Corona with eyes as forbidding as an executioner’s. “Who calls?” he rumbled, growling around the rose clutched in his jaws.

“I am Corona. Of the Sunbeam Ruins.” Her voice emerged as a tremulous squeak. The crow fluttered up to perch on her ear, and she burst out, “Please, I’m looking for a physician — someone, anyone, to help my mother and my crows. They are very sick—”

“You are expected. Enter.” And the doorkeeper motioned her inside.

The splendor of the place briefly stunned her. Corona, daughter of farmers, had never seen such opulence before. It nearly blinded her, all the gold and jewels, her reflection blinking at her from the mirrored walls. “Follow me,” growled the doorkeeper, and she stumbled after him — deeper into the Cathedral, where the fanciful colors faded until only gold remained. Corona’s head throbbed, and she tore her gaze from the shimmering walls and saw that the doorkeeper had stopped beside a narrow doorway.

“You are to go inside,” he instructed her. A brief frown flickered across his face before he moved away, leaving her and the crow to enter the room.

There was a plinth inside, atop which coiled a Spiral. He shone as brilliantly as the cathedral interior, and Corona crouched before him, feeling as though she were worshipping an idol. She could barely look into his shining eyes.

“You’ve traveled a long way.” The Spiral spoke quietly and clearly, and he used a gentle tone. He bent towards her, reaching out with his claws.

“I’m from a farm on Sundial Terrace. I live with my mother. Please, sir...she is very sick. Can you...help me?”

The Spiral stroked his chin. “How did you come here?”

“The crow led me.” Corona plucked the crow from her ear. It huddled within her grasp, its heart fluttering against her palm.

“My name is Cipher. You are...?”

“I am Corona, sir.”

Cipher stared at the crow. “Such an intelligent bird...Is it your pet?”

“My mother and I train messenger birds, sir. We have many clients in the Sunbeam Ruins.” Then Corona remembered — all the crows had died, all except this one. There were no more messenger birds to train or send. She dropped her gaze despondently.

Cipher tut-tutted at this. “Now, don’t be so sad. Your training methods are clearly superb; your feathered friend led you to the right place.”

She looked up sharply. “You can help me?”

“I know many things.” Cipher spread his claws. “I’ve seen pestilences come and go, seen cures forged and successfully deployed. Tell me more of your mother’s affliction, Corona — and perhaps we can assist each other.”

Corona gaped at him. Fearing the worst, she queried, “Do you mean...payment?”

“Of course. Don’t be frightened, child — what I require from you is a very simple thing. And as your crow indicates, you’re more than capable of providing it: I am in need of a messenger of my own.”

Corona almost laughed in relief. She could certainly provide that! “My crow will be happy to help you. I will teach you how to work with him. What you do is—”

Cipher waved her words aside. “Not so fast. I am in need of a more...refined messenger. Let me show you what I mean.”

Letters...There were piles of them on a desk, waiting to be addressed and sealed. Corona stared at them. There were so many...

“It’s all right....Sit down,” Cipher whispered, close to her ear. “Only one at a time.”

Corona sat behind the desk. “You’ll teach me about the letters, right? And my crow will deliver them?”

“He certainly will.”

“All of them? He can’t—”

“Hush. It’s a very simple matter, not much trouble at all.”

Corona clenched her jaw. “And you will help my mother?”

“Your mother will be released from her affliction, I assure you.”

“It’s not so bad. All he needs is a secretary, and I don’t have anything else to offer. It could be a lot worse....” “I’ll take the job,” Corona said at last. Cipher broke into a sun-bright smile.

He hovered beside her ear again. “That one goes to the Viridian Labyrinth. The recipient is...”

One letter addressed and sealed. Next: “That is for one who dwells in the Starfall Isles. They are...”

Addressed and sealed...On and on it went, Corona hunched over the desk, writing feverishly, Cipher whispering into her ear all the while. Whispering commands...and she followed them...

“That one to the Shifting Expanse. And that one dwells beneath the Outer Ocean...”

...till they were all she knew.

Time passed in that golden room. Days, weeks...perhaps months? Corona looked up only when Cipher held a list out to her. “These are the recipients and addresses you must write down. I have business elsewhere; I’m sure you can complete your work alone.”

Business...elsewhere... “Wait,” Corona said. The word felt numb against her tongue, and Cipher turned back, looking annoyed.

She had to...go? Wait, perhaps it was... “My crow. Where...no. When...will...he go?”

“To deliver the letters, you mean?” The answer sounded wrong to Corona, but before she could consider that, Cipher smiled and added, “When I say that he is ready.”

The crow pressed against Corona’s neck. His feathers seemed to merge with her scales, black against deepest black....Corona stroked him with one talon. What a loyal friend...All she needed was right here, in this golden room. All she needed was...

“You will meet other dragons later. They also...work with me. You will like them, I’m sure.”

“You are kind,” Corona murmured to her new master. He whirled away in a brilliant flash, and then there was only the golden room, the stacks of invitations, and the unending toil of the Messenger.

The Snapper came huffing and puffing up Sundial Terrace. “Missus? I’ve brought those vegetables you ordered...” The words died in his mouth as he looked around the farm. It was deserted. A rake lay discarded by a vegetable plot, which clearly hadn’t been worked for some time. The merchant shivered as black feathers blew around his toes.

“Missus? Young Corona? Everything all right?” He trundled over to the lair. Slowly, he opened the door....

“When the Lightweaver struck the crows down, their white feathers turned to deepest black. She barred them from the heavens, saying they were no longer fit to serve Light’s cause. Even now, some of those ebony birds continue gathering knowledge in a vain attempt to win back their goddess’ favor — but without her blessing, they often make mistakes.

“So while crows may still be among the most intelligent of birds, you should be wary when one tries to show you something. Sometimes the knowledge they wish to impart is better left unshared.”

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users

Layout by Kintsy

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