The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica, a Warhammer Online Destruction Regiment, The Awakening of Lyllien Weiss: Part 2

((Catch the first part here.))

“Oh… Hello.” Lyllien greeted the raven with a small wave. It fluttered back and tilted its head intelligently. It seemed to greet her in return and she couldn’t help but smile.

“How are you?” She placed her hand on the window and the raven tapped the glass gently where each of her fingers were, then it looked up into her eyes.

“May I come in?”

Lyllien tilted her head confused. She swore the raven had talked to her, but it yet seemed to come from within her own mind.

“Did you just…?” the girl trailed off and the raven cawed in agreeance.

“Yes. Now please let me in.”

After a slight pause, the girl opened the window and let the bird in. Neatly it hopped in and rested on her knee, fluttering its wings and softly cawing almost tenderly. At first she hesitated, but the raven sat patiently giving off almost what felt like a calming aura. In her head she swore she heard soft voices whispering to her, each voice a distinct sound but so insubstantial she couldn’t pin down what they were saying.

“What’s your name?” She asked it. The raven tilted its head.

“I am called many things. You, my dear, may call me ‘friend’.” Every time the raven ‘talked’ the voices in her head stopped and came together as one to form the words. The words were highlighted in various sensations; feelings of trust, wellbeing and a hint of sorrow floated around, dancing delicately about her brain. She had never felt such sensations before and it both delighted and confused her. It was making it hard to focus, but at the same time she didn’t mind.

“I’m Lyllien,” she said.

“I know,” whispered the raven.

“Why are you here?” Lyllien asked in awe of the presence of the bird resting gently on her leg. The voices in her head murmured comfortingly and she felt a slight headache coming on as she tried to pick out words, yet despite this, she welcomed the opportunity to brush with such a creature. Even in prayers Sigmar himself had not replied and even if he did, it was certainly not like that.

“To free you.” At this statement the voices rose up as if in song in a hymn that she had never heard the likes of before. The beauty of it brought tears to her eyes and she wept uncontrollably thinking nothing except of the creature. Surely this was god; not the unfeeling stones of the temple of Sigmar or the dead churches that speckled the Empire. This was living, breathing, shifting, changing. This was life. There was no other answer.

Through the girl’s tears she swore the raven shifted colours; first to blue, then red, then orange. Such vibrant colours. Lyllien felt her breath catch in her throat and she wiped her eyes trying to see through her tears. Still, the raven changed; it wasn’t a trick of the light. A cry of wonder escaped her lips, and she stopped trying to comprehend.

“You are sad, alone, lost. Stuck forever as a little girl. Stuck as something small when you could be so much more, Lyllien. So very much more.”

The girl softly sobbed both in happiness and despair. “But… My parents…” Surely her father would not tolerate this experience. He was trying to strike down such things. Such experiences. Her mind slowly shifted and gave in to anger and frustration; the voices cried out in indignation at such ideas. Not that they would care, she reasoned. They didn’t care; they just kept her in the dark from all the things she already knew. They kept her powerless and fragile.

Suddenly there was a sharp knock on her bedroom door. Lyllien jumped, startling the raven perched on her knee. Instead of taking off, it fluttered over to her bedpost and looked at her patiently. Another knock sounded on the door.

“Just a minute!” The girl quickly wiped her face clean and got up to answer the door, the voices in her mind softly whispering ‘hush… hush…’

Upon opening the door she saw her mother standing in the doorway, impatient as ever.

“Lyllien it’s time for dinner,” she stated.

The tone of the woman’s voice stirred up thoughts that even Lyllien was surprised she was thinking. The raven clearly did not like her.

“I’m coming,” Lyllien replied and then closed the door on her mother. A small exclamation of surprise was heard from the other side but Lyllien ignored it, her eyes falling back on the raven whom was still shifting from colour to colour magnificently.

“I’ll be here, my Lyllien.”

“Please don’t go,” she pleaded. The bird tilted its head and the voices slowly shifted back to pleasant feelings of comfort and support.

“I will not. Never.”

Falling down on her face, she bowed down with her nose touching the floor. Lyllien heard a flutter of feathers and snuck a peak up to see the raven land before her. As he touched the ground he was a raven no longer. In his place was a man with resplendent robes made of feathers gazing down at her, his face obscured by a hood. Carefully she crawled towards him and kissed the hem of his robes with the voices in her head violently singing hymns, each voice singing a different one. As she did, the image of her father holding the text flashed in her mind and she knew she must have it.