91 Death of Moon Chan (1/2)

The previous night, a flock of birds had flown when the clock struck midnight. One bird cut across the night sky of foggy Avalon, flying under the stars. It was a raven—a white raven. It had been a moonless night, the moon hidden behind black clouds. The only light came from the stars speckled in the night sky.

The white raven flew in the fog, circling above the sleeping city, looking down on the music and torches of the city. When the clock struck, it flew toward the clock tower soundlessly, landing on the tip of one of the clocks hands.

At midnight, the clock’s hand pointed up at the sky like a blade. The white raven gazed about and finally flew past the window and gears, then entered the dark clock tower.

A single candle flickered soundlessly, illuminating the dusty tower. The glimmer of countless emeralds lit up in the darkness. They were actually the candle’s reflection in the beasts’ eyes, the eerie pupils of the predators. Their pure green eyes were full of coldness, and their gazes scanned across the room, studying each other as their heart beats hastened.

At some point, the small room had filled with dozens of birds. They were all different types. Some were black vultures, others were gray seabirds, and there was also a giant pelican. Its long beak hung low as if it were laughing, but there was no mirth in its eyes. Instead, the eyes were silent and dark.

Seeing the white raven, the pelican opened its beak and spoke, ”Gentlemen, I’m sure you all know why I have called you here today, so let us get straight to it.”

”Of course.”

”Is the investigation report out?”

”I don’t want to waste time either.”

The flock of birds all began speaking in human languages. If someone were there, they probably would have been terrified. But to a musician, it meant something else. These birds were not real, but were puppets made from aether. They were dead objects—detailed but cold. The birds flew and spoke, manipulated by people far away. They did this to hide their identity, or because they worried others might discover the meeting. Though they were puppets, they were intricately made, and emanated the opulence of the elites. When they spoke, their frustrated tones sounded like a chorale.

When the birds quieted down, the pelican looked around. In a voice hoarse like an old man, he said, ”A strange phenomenon occurred downtown a few days ago. I believe everyone has heard of it.” He paused, his voice reminding everyone of the event that had led to many sleepless nights.

”The Moon Above the Ocean. According to investigation, it was created by the resonance between a musician’s Symphony of Predestination and the world, disrupting reality…Yes, you are right to worry because he might have returned.” As soon as he finished, the other birds erupted into chaos. Some angrily questioned him, some fell silent in shock, and others questioned every detail, trying to refute the possibility. The only thing they all had in common was the undisguisable fear in their voices.

”Enough!” The pelican raised its voice, silencing everyone. He waited until they fell silent before he opened his beak to speak again. ”In regards to the phenomenon, we have used many connections to find its origin. Sadly, we have no results. Everyone there turned into lunatics, and the survivors are now in the Arkham Asylum. They may never recover. The dead have already been taken by the Royal Institute of Research. That is the crazy Newton’s territory, and we cannot interfere. All evidence had been destroyed at the site, leaving nothing behind. But the phenomenon seemed to have been done on purpose…”

”He’s sending a message,” the vulture muttered angrily as if through clenched teeth. ”He wanted us to see it!”

The owl’s eyes were dark. ”That’s right. He wants to tell us that he’s back!”

”His arrogance! Can he fight against the entire Anglo Empire?”

”He’s dreaming!”

”But…”

”Enough, what are we arguing about? Is now the time to argue amongst yourselves?”

”What, are you scared?”

It sounded just like a flock of birds cawing, but in actuality, there were different voices arguing. They were old and young, panicked and angered. Every bird looked back at the one in the corner. ”White raven, you promised us that he was already dead.”

Even in the sudden silence and under the interrogation of his friends, the white raven was as calm as ever. He watched their eyes quietly and waited for them to calm down before he said coolly, ”He truly is dead.”

As if igniting something, the birds exploded in anger.

”Lies!”

”Raven, I’m sick of your lies!”

”Then explain what happened!”