BAD-026
Barista: Julia Morningstar
Date: Jan-14-2020
Receipt: BAD-026
Subject: Omens
I can feel it in my bones.
Not just the cold. Not just the weight of the earth pressing down as we move deeper. Something deeper. Older. My mark pulses—steady, insistent. A second heartbeat. A gentle hand at my back, pushing me forward.
The walls shift as we move. I swear I hear them groan—stone grinding, corridors unfolding just ahead of our steps. This isn’t the Barrow’s doing. No—this feels picked. Chosen. Predestined. Like someone—or something—chose this path long before we set foot inside. Not a random maze, not a test of wandering souls, but a road paved specifically for us. A road with only one destination.
Fate? Maybe. Or maybe something worse.
The Crow is waiting.
Eoin has whispered stories around firelight many nights in the Gross Wyrm. He’s told us tales of a woman—no—a goddess at the crossroads of war and destiny. Feathers black as night. Eyes as deep as the void. Crows gathering on battlefields before the first sword is drawn. Watching. Waiting. Knowing.
Ahead, only uncertainty. And yet…
The hound doesn’t hesitate. He walks beside me, steady and certain. He doesn’t fear the path. That’s enough for me. His paws do not falter. Neither will I. Strange. And yet… entirely natural. We move as one. My mark tethering him to me and me to him.
The corridors close behind us. The light fades. We step forward—into the waiting dark. We have each other. We have our shared light. Our last flicker of a dead star.
I just hope it’s enough.