Raven, raven, blood on my fingers. Did I kill you? Or was it the wicked one? She came to me in the morning, looming at the entry to my home. Appearing as only a shadow, she slips into my nightmares and, likewise, my body. It becomes hers, touches the earth with a poison smile, and leaves the blood on my fingers. I told her to stop, warned her that they would come for me. She would no longer be able to use my body, just as it would no longer be mine. They would take me away, lock me in with pads and chain, until I was safe from her. But I knew her best, knew that she would come to me still. She would find me in the night, slip through the metal bars. They could not keep her from me. Then they would truly live the word regret. They will perish from her overtaking. She is more powerful than I can warn. The bird was a signal, an unnecessary sacrifice to prove a point. She let me know. I could not escape her, just as she could not leave me. It was unclear if she could take other hosts, but the sacrifice became my own as I let her lead me. I was selfish in this way. I did not want to die. So we continued. The Earth drank until it was full, and still we fed it more. They tried to stop us, but we kept to the shadows. We will only appear when she desires her divine intervention.