My legs trembled as I walked away from that place, locked up for a time I couldn't count. I had left behind a turmoil of chaos and agony and it was being released into a miraculous harmony of pleasure. I don't know if what I did was right, but I opened each locked gate on my way and let those wounded souls out. I saw full crows emerging from their pits—some jumping into the ocean, others devouring each other in hunger, a few thrusting against the humans guarding the gates, ripping their heads off and giving them quick deaths. I would've done it differently, but I didn't have more time to waste. I let them do it their own way.

I thought they'd all burst with the same anger I held, making that place a living hell for those who kept us locked away for eternity without explanations, not even kind enough to tell us there was no hope for an exit; yet some didn't even have strength to walk out or escape. Some say if you chain an elephant and leave it there long enough, even when you take the chain away, it stays still, as if still bound.

I guess it was the same for those poor beasts. They had been locked so long they had no concept of freedom or hate or revenge or love—just them, their chains, and eternity.

I traced her smell—the nun who'd greeted me with chains and cast me into that pit all those years ago. She was the first I wanted to find. I had promised Crow a tasty dinner, and when I stood before her at last, hiding behind her desk on the cold stone floor, I licked my lips at the horror painted on her face. I grabbed her by the neck, lifted her with one feathered arm, and right when she was about to fade, I let her fall again. She wasn't allowed to die quickly—I wanted her to suffer what I had suffered, but I knew it was impossible for her; she'd die eventually, and I couldn't.

Her face was worn with age, her hair thin and white. How long had it been? I didn't dare ask. I grabbed her flimsy, pathetic mane and dragged her amidst the screams of chaos to the same pit she'd had me thrown into.

I made her look into my eyes.

"Do you remember me?" I whispered. She nodded and pleaded—she wanted to live. It's curious how quickly your pride falls, how your strength and authority disappear when you're no longer the one upstairs watching the world burn. It's curious how your fears cripple you, how your will to live takes over and you'd do anything to survive when you no longer rule, when you're part of the chaos you built yourself. I enjoyed it, watching her break. I enjoyed her screams and her pleading—I'd have enjoyed it even more if she could've lived longer. Some humans deserve to be devoured by beasts. Some don't deserve an ounce of sorrow or sympathy because they don't even know what that is.

I tossed her into what had been my cage. I heard her scream, her bones shattering as she hit the bottom, her blood splattering as she crashed against the sharp walls. The water had retreated already—just a pond at the bottom, deep enough to soothe the fall. Then, when she cried and begged and woke from her haze, when she looked at me one last time, I let Crow take over. Just as she'd watched me get swallowed by decay and despair, I watched her get eaten by the beast that lived within me.

After Crow eats, I can't go back to my human form for a while—back then, it took three or four days to recover my natural shape. I didn't know it, so I dragged that terrifying body across roads for miles and miles, avoiding being seen when I passed a small town or carriage. I noticed a lot had changed since I was taken from home—houses I couldn't remember being there, different, more solid roads.

I starved the whole way. I didn't stop to sleep or eat, barely tasted water when it rained or when I found a creek, hiding amidst the forest sometimes to avoid being seen. I had no idea how I looked, but I had the feeling I'd aged a bit. I had to cut my hair with a rusty knife I found once Crow's shape disappeared—otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to walk. I had a long beard too, but it wasn't important. I think I stopped once at a distant farm and stole a chicken, which I ate without cooking, but Crow didn't find birds tasty—too much like eating his own kind, I guess.

After several days—maybe a week—wandering alone and desperate to find home, I stumbled on that bluish sign reading "Castañeda Manor" at the entrance of a cobblestone path. The entrance looked awfully hurt by time, but that warm feeling I'd kept alive all along was finally there. I ran as fast as I could with the last of my strength, dropping almost lifeless—if I could've died, I probably would've—onto the front garden.

A few minutes later, I smelled that familiar perfume mixed with seasoning and flowers—the scent of Margaret, staring at me as if I were a dead man.

"Florian?" she said incredulously, holding my bony face in her warm hands. I could barely open my eyes to see her. I think my body only moved, pushed by the wish to be home—otherwise, I'd have passed out before.

I learned that even though I can't die, while I'm in my human shape, I do need to eat and rest—things I hadn't done in so long. Now all the fatigue had crumbled down on me. I let her bathe me, and I slept deeply because I knew I was home. I'd made it, so now I could rest.