They swarm, they swarm, they gather and collect. Dark feathers, like ink upon the purple sky. Dark feathers swirling, swirling, forming a creature. A monster. Lifeless eyes.
Did She make it? Did one of us? Was it just born from the chaos, from the darkness of our hearts? Swirling, it gathers, it pecks and pecks.
It's different from the other crows here. Our Mistress' mischievous pets, who pretend royalty. Pretend loyalty. They steal and keep and hoard. Joy in their black eyes that shine as they mock us. For obeying endlessly. Following Her into the darkness, with nothing shining as a reward. Only the blackness behind our eyes.
But the monster has lifeless eyes. They're hollow, not black, just nothing. Nothing, nothing, they stare through you. Between you. They peck and peck. Nothing shining will move them. Nothing to sate their unending appetite. Swarming, gathering, collecting, a mass of darkness.
They're angry, always angry. Hungry. No laughter, no mocking, just hunger. They'll peck, peck, with bony beaks that snatch. Gouging murders, arcing darkness. Talons to cut, shred, tear. Tearing, tearing.
They summon more. Crows cawing, gathering, and then they laugh no more. Tease no more. Speak no more. Her pets are nothing now, pecking, pecking hunger which stalks. Which tears. Which feasts.
I dream of them as I sleep beneath the stars of Her Oblivion. They simply stare. Staring, staring, nothing eyes filled with rage. Filled with hunger. My flesh will not satisfy them, but they crave it, I see it. I cannot offer anything but myself, and I don't want. Not that. I have been consumed by Her. They cannot have me.
They peck and peck, but I am a shadow. My flesh is darkness. I am already devoured by Her.