In The Blink Of A Raven's Eye free porn video

As night encroached on the watery dusk, I lit the fire.  A solitary raven sat on a bough.  With a caw of approval, it blinked.  Wood burned and its embers soared; I moved like its smoke.  From house to house, I weighed their souls and chose them.  I sifted through the moral and immoral: the chapel on the headland had its congregation. 

For me, these were acts of physical congress, for them, a lover in their dreams.  They awoke as the whites of their eyes blackened.  They struggled, and gave themselves to me.

Each of them, a role to play, everyone had their purpose.  I knew this, it was written, she told me.

When the fire dulled, it left its fiery hue in the dawn sky.

I left with their souls.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Lodged at this inn, a stranger in this island village, I endured their weary tolerance.

The woman at the bar, Sia, her name given up with the cool indifference I learned to expect.  Every night, I caught her side-glances.  Every night, I returned the same welcoming smile.

Tall, flame-haired with strong lean features, and skin that shimmered with a porcelain fragility. 

In her eyes, I saw it: not knowing is worse than knowing. 

I needed this as I waited for him to arrive.  It might seem cruel but it was necessary.  An act of mercy and the raven blinked.

Laid alongside her, eyes opened, she succumbed at the first kiss.  More followed, as our limbs entwined.  Rising, I knelt over her.  Wide vulnerable eyes greeted mine, arms above her head.  Trembling as unconquered territory, I fought against the temptation of her surrender.  My caress upon her, a message: how I longed to be touched.  It meandered around curves as smooth as timeworn marble.  A promise and temptation, it skirted around all those places of pleasure. 

Her exhibition of helplessness enraged me, from slender arms, along broad shoulders, to expansive breasts stretched tautly.  Narrowed eyes met mine and her pleasure whimpered from those ripe bee-stung lips.

My nonchalant thumb teased her erect nipple.  Taken as the first fruit of summer, she quivered with a moan.  Easing over her abdomen, it betrayed her excitement. 

Opening her thighs, her invitation, she exposed the smooth hillock of her mons.  Her eyes pleaded, her lamentations never eased as this fleeting touch circled her heat.

The moment I cleaved her sex drew a deep breath like her first.  As my velvet touch transformed into penetrating fingers, she exhaled like her last.  Her tight sex sucked on two fingers, its squishy sounds competed with her groans.

Combinations tried like a thief in the night, I found my ill-gotten gains.  Clutching my hand at the vital moment, we shared her first orgasm.

The touch of her lips revealed her urgency, each one received with a gasp.  Prowling as an indecisive hunter that might show mercy, I pursed my lips and blew softly.  Like flotsam that bobbed on an ill-tempered sea, she offered her sex to my mouth.  In my gaze, her narrowed upturned eyes full of hope and it fell from my pursed lips: a string of saliva.

On impact, she gasped black mouthed. 

Cleaving its glossy pillows, the tip of my tongue caught her by surprise.  Spreading her confection, connected body and soul, I cast the spell.  I enjoyed this moment when the inky black invaded the whites of her eyes; it swirled and consumed them.

She did not fight like the others, her embrace pulled at me for more.

Suction from my lips, a random lash of my tongue turned whimpers into cries.  Easing my slender fingers inside, it sealed her fate.  In waves of flexed muscle, I found her rhythm.

Commanded to beg, she gave a timid plea.

Insufficient, I held back, brought her close, and snatched its promise away.  The strength of her petition grew until she writhed. 

Louder cries implored and convinced me; she contorted and bucked.  Then it came: womanly convulsions unbecoming of a Celtic flower.

Shrill cries and harsh breaths, heels as pivots pitched her upwards.  Those porcelain thighs shook as if they might break.

Anyone else would relent, not me, not this time.  This soothing tongue offered false comfort and I gave no quarter.  In a cat and mouse game, the prisoner remained on the cusp of release again. 

Gripping the bedstead, it rattled with a metallic complaint.  Her ceaseless baying cries gave me pleasure.  Their tone and urgency intensified for this slowest ascent to orgasm.  Big lungfuls of air reduced to a croak, body tightened to the point of tiny rapid judders.  She lurched like the waves of a tempestuous storm.  Saliva flecked howls, red-faced, and clenched hands pulled the crumpled sheets tight.  Its tension gripped on stabbing fingers and I witnessed her most intimate moment.

Panting, skin mottled, now it was time.  Straddled, restrained by a handful of flame-red hair, she took my sex.  First, patient flicks of her tongue, next, engulfed by those fulsome lips.  Her diligence to my instructions rewarded me.  Pawing at my breasts, my automatic hips provoked, she enflamed the ache within.

Her head bobbed and tongue lashed with the fervour of a starved prisoner.  Her skilful touch rubbed and pointed tongue slithered like a serpent within.  She stole it, I let her, and my frustration vented from me as a torrid cry.  Eyes squeezed shut, I flailed, the hot rush of orgasm exploded in the black. 

The haze around me pulsated.

Tenderly lapping at my sex, I gazed down at my new acolyte.  This one was special and we were not finished yet.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Would you like to see it?”

Amidst the ephemera of our finished meal and half-imbibed drinks, he indulged my playfulness.  I revealed it a corner at a time.  A gasp announced his beautiful astonishment.

For someone so smart, he looked so young, handsome in a world of ill-kempt academia. 

Sat before me, the man I waited for.

Resting on a pure white cotton square, the circular pendant glistened.  At its centre, the stylised figure of a naked woman, lissom, attractive.

Around her, rows of gold filigree woven into intricate and complex knots.  

Its golden hue reflected in his eyes, still wide with wonder, “Erica, your photos did not do it justice.”

“It’s certainly beautiful.”

“Divinity?”

I shook my head, “No.”

“And still no funerary goods?  No bones?”

“No.  James, look closely.  Follow the twists here.  There’s the outline of a symbol.”

He noticed it too.

“Fertility,” he muttered.

Sitting back in his chair, I could see the conflict. 

“Fertility, James.

It’s a ceremonial piece.”

The quiet burble of conversation carried on around us.

He huffed dismissively, “Erica… don’t…”

“James… think about it.

Fourteen granite stones, thirteen cut into large uniform squares and arranged in a wide circle.  We found a mix of male and female amulets underneath each slab, some with two, three, as many as five.  All crafted to the same high quality.  The male genitalia is erect.”

He baulked at that: genitalia… erect.  Cock, penis, vagina, cunt, I preferred those words.  He tried to hide his reaction with a hasty sip of ale. 

I tapped it, still warm with my body heat, “This one was found at the centre of the circle along with its torc.  The stone is long, wide, like a bed.  It’s a temple.”

A reluctant comprehension competed with his bookish innocence.

“James, now do you understand why I did not include this analysis in my report?”

He scoffed, “Because it would ruin your credibility at the faculty...”

“The site is ceremonial.”

He snorted in a risible gesture of contempt.  I let him enjoy it.

“It’s a mile from here, not far from a croft.  Beyond that, ancient woodland, uncleared for a millennium, maybe never.  We found it in a natural clearing, the soil too shallow for more than grass and heathers.  It’s too deliberate, the time and effort, the care and attention for something, or someone, very special.”

Looking at it again, he snorted with derision, “I hope you have not wasted my time with this.”

I demurred, “I am not wasting your time,” and narrowed my eyes in protest.

“Erica, your methods, they are too unorthodox.”

“On the underneath of the slabs, they were caked in mud.”

“As you might expect,” his tone ladened with sarcasm.

“It has taken time to remove it, we found carvings.  Pictograms of birds, boars, and serpents.”

“Birds?  That’s common enough.”

“Not just any bird James, ravens.”

I soared at his expression of incredulity.

“Ravens?  The harbingers of death,” he hissed, “Jesus Christ.”

“No.  This is Pagan, Norse, there’s no doubt.”

Sitting back, he waved his hand dismissively, “They could not have been here.  It changes everything.”

“In a trench, we found layers of ash and charcoal.  Carbon dating does not lie.”

A log crackled in the fire and its serendipity spiked a frisson of arousal.  Scraping back his floppy hair, I suppressed it: the ache to copulate.  Indulging the thought, I took a sip of wine, barely cold, bitter with hints of fruit.  I wanted him to see it in my expression; he did not.

Leaning forwards, arms rested on the table, I knew it revealed enough cleavage.  I hoped my reputation preceded me.

I ignored his wayward eyes, “James, what is written on the underside of the stones is very interesting.”

“Written?”

“Lines of Futhark runes on every single slab.  Beowulf has three thousand lines and we have a similar number here.  I’ve translated some of it, enough to know for certain what we are dealing with.”

In his hand, the ale trembled in its opaque glass and he drained it.  Placing it on the table, he took off his glasses.

Resting a pointed finger on the dark table, its clammy heat left a mark on the veneer.

“This woman is Freyja, this pendant is part of the Brísingamen.  The torc holds the pendant.  The runes, the symbolism, the carbon-dating, it’s the fifth century.  The Norse left only a few written records and this changes everything.”

Calmly, I savoured the moment, my intellectual nemesis rocked to his core. 

Looking into his eyes, “We’ll be famous.”

Skewered by his vanity, I had him now, the rising star of the faculty, its youngest Professor.  A crackle of need rose and its sparks fed the immolation.

A half-opened mouth and lascivious eyes were the lures to my quarry, “I have the images on my laptop.

It’s in my room.”

He grinned, “Are you inviting me up to see your etchings?”

“Something like that,” I purred.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

What we think and what we do are not the same; the difference between them is morality and free will.  One out of two is not bad. 

James came to my room, more enamoured by the images, the pendant, and torc.  In my expression was an obvious invitation.  When he noticed, he averted his eyes.

It was late; he had an early morning call with the faculty.  The atmosphere heavy with anticipation, he bid me goodnight. 

I was in a state of fire; I wanted to be burned.  I chose him to do it. 

The motive force of each step intensified the compulsion.  I kept something back, translations that revealed her power to me. 

Undressing slowly, I left my clothes on the floor.  The pendant fastened as the centrepiece, I eased the Brísingamen around my neck.

It glimmered in the mirror and I exhibited myself as art.  Long blonde hair gathered and draped over one shoulder.  A leg straight, one bent at the knee, a posture of coy indifference.  A feint, as the birth of Venus, I lacked the demure.  Hand on my hip, I stood unashamed, the deep curves of my waist to hips, the fullness of my breasts and taut stomach.  Like the pendant, the cleft of my bare sex hot with need.

From the window, there it was, my familiar.  In the blink of its eye, I entered the realm of lividity.  The twilight of life, where time slowed and ravens waited patiently.

Deep in slumber, I would corrupt his angelic features.  Easing back the covers, as fingers, they explored the hills and vales of his athletic body.  As talons, they would mark him at the heights of ecstasy.  Watching, those loose pyjamas swelled, my touch skirted its outline.

Opened, it took life in my hand.  Pleasantly surprised, I gauged its weight and girth.

It stood as a fine prize to warm an autumnal evening. 

The cadence of soporific breaths stuttered when his body bore my weight.  Overzealous, with a wince, I slowed to take my fill.

He did not yield to my first kiss. 

At the moment of incantation, the whites of his eyes clouded.  He reeled with a shocked intake of air.  Struggling to placate him, swirls of leaden grey became black.  My staccato body blows slapped against his loins.  With all my strength, I held him down.  The liquid pace, relentless, I rode him hard.

Watching, his innocence ebbed away, and the muscular strength of his body eased.  Acceding to my dominium, arms locked against his torso, I took my pleasure from him.  The outline of his lips snarled with lust.  I goaded his response with slattern kisses, tongue deep and wanton.

Instinct steered my hips, breasts mashed to his chest, and snorts of air in-between entwined tongues.  The ethereal haze, a fog around our being, inhaled and exhaled as his capitulation.  As symbiotic thrusts, we moved as one with lunging thrusts.  The clatter of our bodies, a frenzy of snatched air, groans and yelps.

No one could hold out under such an assault. 

Rearing up so fast, it ravaged me, a lava heat throughout my being.  Flailing in the mire of our perspiration, his cruciform body clutched at the bedsheets.  He reached his tumult, swollen and driving into me hard.  Sinews in his neck tight, muscles strained, he trembled at the apex of delirium.  One final thrust, he yielded with a roar.  In galloping spasms, his milk boiled over in the place where he would sire our children.

With a solitary kiss, pyjamas buttoned, I pulled the covers over him. 

The warp and weft of time tightened.  In my room, the intense need raged on.  Rubbing my clit, I felt the heft of his penis inside me.  The shudders rose, his acquiescence assured, I reached its zenith on that thought.

The relief crashed over me, James was mine now, all mine.

If ravens signified death, and boars symbolised sexual power.  The serpentine circle of the pendant defined life itself. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Walking to the croft, his gait bounced in sturdy hiking boots.  Around us, the autumnal scent of decay, and the detritus of early leaf fall.

Talking relentlessly, James heaved for breath in-between quick words.

“Erica, I dreamt about you last night.”

“You did,” I paused, “Was it a nice dream?”

“Uh-huh.”

Looking at him, I sensed his embarrassment, “Of course it was.”

He kissed me that night and in my room, I fucked the taciturn out of him.  My carnal knowledge consumed him like a moth to a flame.

Spending our days at the site, we collated our findings as evidence for our first academic paper.

The evenings, I exhausted him with my voracious appetite.  In the blink of my raven’s eye, I took him for more and sullied his pure soul.

He always dreamt of me.

Our on-site work concluded, we helped to haul the tarpaulins of earth back to each trench.  Our small team re-laid the slabs, clods of grassy earth pressed home, and the gaps reseeded with rye.  They returned home and we remained to receive the numerous delegations of academics.

That night, we celebrated.

As living flesh, I savoured his devotion.  My words in the height of passion suggested his dreams would come true.  He said he loved me, I told him I knew.  Our febrile bodies hot in an embrace of body and soul, I urged him to do it and impregnate me.  Complying readily, our last desperate lunges delivered the heavy throb of his climax.

Illuminated by subdued moonlight, the musk of sex hung in the air.  Between my thighs, I dipped a finger into the sticky confection.  It glistened in the soft incandescent light. 

I placed a covetous hand upon him.  My boar slept, my plaything for life in the spiritual realm, and this realm too.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Men made of oak are stout and have brawn.  They are strong and between a woman’s thighs render them helpless to their designs.

Men made of willow are sleek and athletic.  They have guile and move quickly.  Between a woman’s thighs, they persuade with their mind.

James was made of willow.

My raven, my familiar blinked, and I led them to the temple.  Behind James, the night consumed all, pinpricked by stars.  Around my neck, the Brísingamen, I made the incantation and submitted to the thrill of exultation. 

Adorned with my symbols for them, a potage of wild herbs daubed on their torsos.  Taken from the runes, Freyja demanded it.

He stood naked and watched, erect, and ready.  We writhed in Sapphic coitus and our hurried exhalations left no marks in the air.  On the long stone at its centre, the unyielding granite warmed by our bodies.  Hot-blooded, we writhed for pleasure, melded into a solitary creature.  Scissored, we exchanged orgasms in a battle for dominance.

The ravens, silhouettes on branches, witnessed our devotion. 

Avaricious hands roamed over his trembling body.  Two serpent tongues took turns and traced over the long ridge of his full erection.  A lip-locked vacuum stretched around his girth.  Devouring the plump glans, I imagined how her essence might taste from it.

She took him and primed him for this act of veneration. 

Pinned down beneath us, I took him with ecstatic ease.  The lash of flailing tresses, I clasped at her to endure.  Astride his face, Sia gasped, our lips met, hands on my breasts fuelled the fire.  The rigid heft of hot penis smeared with wet heat; it betrayed my pleasure.  In the shudders of our orgasms, sublimated flesh transformed into a mistral vapour. 

Pulled into a lotus position, gentle pillow lips roamed to my cheek. Like soft rain, they fell on my exposed neck, breasts, and nuzzled its proud nipple.  Vulnerable to my whims, he witnessed my ascension to climax.

My incantation propelled his compulsion for orgasm.  Her black-eyed stare acknowledged my desire.  Aided by her touch, the seductive undulation of my hips swelled him to the point of no return.  The gruff moans of surrender rose and his rapid pulses clashed with mine.  Our convulsions thumped through us with anguished cries of relief.

Dismounted from him, her fingers pulled it from my sex, and it dripped onto the granite.  The slab trembled with Freyja’s munificence. 

In the still night air, the cry of ravens encouraged us.  We nurtured his simmering lust until he was ready for more. 

Taken her on all fours, he plunged into Sia, the fulfilment of his secret desires.  In my embrace, pressed to his back, exultations as rasped words powered his thrusts.  James rampaged like a wild boar.  Cupped in my hands, I felt the deliverance of his sperm into her livid sex.  It fell from her onto the lichen stained granite.

The slab trembled each time, more offerings that brought me closer to Freyja.

Under a third-quarter moon, our lips gave their last caress, and I heard it, coquettish laughter. 

In a few days, the full moon would be bright and fat.  She told me, I must yield to the men of oak.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Amongst the naked trees and heavy leaf fall, a rotten branch snapped underfoot.  A distant caw tingled my spine.  Hot exhaled air lingered like the mists of orgasm.

Impassive, James carried the bundle and we added it to the woodpile.  Taller with long branches, chest high, it rose to a point.  Damp, I pondered the practicalities of how it might ignite.

“Experimental Archaeology,” I muttered, “We’ll leave it like this.  It certainly adds something to the site for their visits.”

He nodded obediently at my barefaced lie.

Closer this time, a raven cried, still unseen. 

He looked around, “It’s dusk.”

“Yes, we should be heading back.”

I tried, I wanted it to be a tender kiss, loving and unconditional.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Aided by petrol, it caught quickly, licks of flame consumed bough and branch. 

The ravens circled, flanked by skeletal trees as sentinels to our ritual.  Riding on the thermals from the huge conflagration, one descended.

Watching, it came to me with a quizzical tilt to its head.

In the purgatory of a blinked eye, their naked bodies shimmered in the orange light.  Every soul touched by me in their dreams.

Runes in soot decorated their skin, head anointed with fragrant oil.  Like the amulets, the males erect in priapic worship, female ready to receive them.

Fastened around my neck, Freyja rested on my décolletage.  The earthy scent evoked long-repressed emotions; voices spoke after they finished speaking. 

Women pranced in side-steps, dancing rings around the fire.  By its light, the wispy grey mistral breeze swirled around us.  On the ceremonial slabs, we made the spiritual connection to the soil.

A young woman rode a stout male, elbows locked, bliss etched on her features.  Two men sandwiched a woman between them, each thrusting their erections into her sex.  Two more men, one mounted like a dog to his bitch, the other underneath.  In turn, they defiled both her holes.

Amidst the menagerie, James laid behind Sia, her leg draped over him.  His erection cleaved her sex as a female acolyte kissed her.

I yielded to a muscular crofter; taken from behind, he clasped my shoulders and impaled me.

Continued deep penetration forced louder cries.  Rough hands pulled at my wrists, hauled up by my arms, I met the clatter of his hips.

My flesh quivered and breasts shook.

Pawed roughly, and its hardened nipple plucked, I submitted.  Another priapic muscle thrust into my mouth.  Filled to the hilt by his prodigious cock, my moans stifled on another.

Neither would yield, these men of oak.

Our moans carried on the night air.  Above the crackles of damp wood, a shrill cry called out in orgasmic relief.  The light within, the ball of heat throbbed at my core.  I nurtured it as their hard erections rifled my body.  Sticky sounds of pleasure punctuated by the clash of his powerful loins.

The miasma intensified, the sharp contrast of my vision blurred.  I tried to hold it back and staunch it, she told me to let go.  Shaking at the knees, through my thighs, I relented.

The grip on my wrists tightened, he grunted and skewered me firmly.  Convulsing and gagged, the penis in my mouth twitched.

The acrid taste of semen brought unimaginable ecstasy.

I spat his seed onto the granite; it trembled as I did.  Fighting for air, dragged onto his lap, I fought back to goad him.  He rubbed my clit in retaliation, peals of electricity induced rising shudders.  Braced, violated by his thick girth, we moved as one.

The strain of effort grew with louder plosive grunts; my paramour quaked as if the ground shook.

Buried deep, the thumping spasms delivered what I craved.  Free of his clutches, his seed ran from me.  Resting on the granite, its vibrations coursed through my bones.  

Unquenchable, Sia brought fresh meat for my pleasure.  Beside me, she directed James onto the slab and took him.

Another man of oak pulled me down.  He promised me things I was scared to ask for.  Holding his erection, I plunged onto his girth.  Riding him, my fingers traced over the rune on his bulky chest.  The stone trembled; I scythed my hips and took the fill of his meaty shaft.

Pulled down, his coarse hands splayed my behind.  Drops of oil ran down its cleft.  I needed this; I vowed to be their vessel of pleasure.  The violation did not perturb me.  Penetrated slowly, the stranger adapted me to his length. 

Matched in tempo, the spectacle of these orgiastic bodies inspired me.  Obscuring the view, it looked so livid and eager.  To the touch, velvet skinned, I gripped a muscle of steel.

Licking it, swirling my tongue around its glans, he pulled on me to take it.  My soul laid bare, violated in every hole, I fought with them to pleasure myself.

They bludgeoned with their relentless need to fornicate.  Unyielding, contorted into the positions they chose, they wore me down.

The intense pleasure, in ever-decreasing circles concentrated at my core.  I vacillated between the rigid tensions of effortless climax and limp submission.

Through bliss-ladened eyes, I glanced at James and Sia alongside me.  She rode him, hair wild, arms lofted high.  At the point of orgasm, I confessed my hidden secret.  He would never make me feel this way. 

One at a time, their seed erupted into me, slashed my body, and fell onto the granite.

Breathless, exhausted, prostrate on the slab, the vibrations ceased.  The ethereal glow from my body pulsed with a deep bass hum.  The charged mist cloaked my body with its vitality.

Washed clean of my labour and their scent, I stood.  It quickened and surged, every thought, a leviathan of authority and power.  I knew my purpose: the arbiter of love, fertility, and death. 

These souls, they were mine to mould like clay.  In front of me, Sia, her eyes bright as moonlight.  She blocked my path to James, it raised my anger; I seethed to strike her down. 

Distracted by a sudden draft, she held out her arm.  My familiar landed upon it, licks of flames reflected in its eye. 

It blinked.

Overcome by exhaustion, I fell.  Their souls faded into the scattered mist.  Disorientated, lost in deafening silence, the flames emitted a piercing chill.

Inundated by desolation and loneliness, its anxiety devoured me. 

Leaves rustled and hands pulled at my listless body.  Rolled onto my back, Sia knelt before me, and the raven cawed.

Bewildered, I frowned.

“Erica, this is my familiar, not yours.  We had such high hopes for you.”

Illuminated by firelight, she took the Brísingamen. 

“This is just gold.  Did you think she would bury it?  She came to you because you had her story.  You chose not to read it, all of it.  You chose not to heed the warnings.  Those that cannot love are unworthy.”

The fire extinguished, my vision filled with the black of night, no stars and the moonlight dimmed.  Ravens crowed in jagged cuts of mockery.

“Goodbye Erica, Odin will deal with you now.”

Stabbed by intense panic, stuck in the twilight of life, my tortured cries made no sound. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Through the tall panes of glass, the chill of winter leeched through my clothes.  The long manicured lawn stretched out, flanked by ornate balustrades.  Out to the rolling hills, I lingered at the islands of naked silver birches and wiry weeping willows.  To the horizon, swathes of black under a blanket of dismal mist: the thick sea of forest slept.

Heels clipped the parquet floor with a creak of leather.  The scent of pipe tobacco and heat from the hearth warmed me.

They brought me to the faculty once a week as misguided therapy.

“James, can she hear us?”

I recognised his voice; it was the Dean.

“The doctors think so.

Whatever they say, I think it’s rude to talk about her in the third person.”

Two sets of footsteps walked towards the door.  The subtle ticking of the mantel clock almost overwhelmed their words.

“They found her at the site, naked, unconscious, and hypothermic.”

“Good God.”

“There’s no physical damage but she’s stuck in some kind of catatonic state.”

“Mental breakdown?”

“Probably, she always pushed herself hard and took things too far.”

“And the research?”

“Well, that continues at least.  I spend most of my time on the island.  We are still sifting through the Norse settlement we found.”

“It is a tremendous discovery, James.  Where are we with the artefacts?”

“The British Museum thought it best to remove the stones.  They commissioned replicas for the island.  The amulets are with them for further study.”

“And the one of Freyja?”

“Ah yes… Erica kept it in her room, only she knows where it is.  We turned the island upside down.”

“Pity.”

“Yes, pity.”  There was a pause, “It’s embarrassing for the faculty so I’ve stalled them for time.  I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.  It’ll turn up.”

“Of course.”

There was a brief commotion and the footsteps faded away. 

Vibrations rose through the rubber on the wheels and into the steel frame of the chair.  The freedom to move my head, hope fluttered in the pit of my stomach for an end to this hell.  Scanning the mottled clouds of light grey and gunmetal, something moved in the corner of my eye. 

With the cold came an overwhelming dread.  The leaden thump in my chest accelerated so fast, I thought it might burst.

On the gravel path, Sia stood, dressed in a white overcoat.  Lips curled in a knowing smile, red hair aflame in the wind, the torc in her hand.  James ran into view and slowed to a standstill.  Holding it out for him, instead, he embraced her.

The Dean took it and walked away.

They kissed, kissed again, and then deeply; it looked so loving and unconditional.  He said something, she did too, and they kissed again.

I knew then, I lost him.  I lost the battle; she won.

A blur of black came to rest and ambled towards the window.  The quiet tick-and-tock of clockwork counted down its inevitability.  Helpless, no escape, I swallowed back the metallic taste of panic. 

Eye to eye, maddened by terror, cheeks wet with tears. 

The raven blinked.