The rains ceased and the young boy woke. He rubbed his eyes, curled his toes in soaked, dirty socks, and stretched out his arms. But, as his eyes focused, he saw a black crow standing near his feet picking at the spilled organs of the dead dove.

The crow paused and looked at the boy with a long strand of coiled intestine hanging from his mouth. He crooned and continued pecking.

"Get away from her!" the boy shouted; the crow feasted more. He tried to push the crow away with light kicks but the crow contested by biting at his rubber sole. Frustrated, the boy shot up to his feet to deliver a final kick, but the crow had already taken flight.

The crow, fully satisfied by his meal, ascended to meet the winds that blew foul air between the abandoned buildings of the Ideo sector. Soon he was soaring high above Atlas. Night had come and city lights both static and in motion were seen in all directions.

Although he despised the urban details of Atlas by day–its creeping decay–he loved how pleasant it could appear from high in the dark sky; the city sparkled hundreds of thousands of lights as streams of lights of all colors and shades outlined a vast shining web that stretched out to the mountainous horizon. The view was astounding, but as he looked in awe he began to despise the night for he knew that there was no real beauty in the lands below him during the light of day. The ocean was now near for instead of city stink the salty scent of the sea was filling his lungs. In the distance, he could see the glorious columns of light beaming bold and strong into the night sky from the hollow of Mount Eve. There, within the heavily carved mountain that stood near high sea cliffs, was the Tower of Light encircled by the seven Atlantean Royal Towers.

The Tower of Light rose above the surrounding rock walls of Mount Eve and the seven towers. It was a white tower, an ivory tower, made of white marble stone. Hidden behind the Tower of Light, to the west, was the black Tower of Drakul. To the southeast of the dark tower was the Tower of Libra, and to the northeast stood the Tower of Taurus. Southeast of the white tower stood the Tower of Leo, and to the northeast the Tower of Cancer. The Tower of Virgo stood southwest of the Tower of Leo, and the Tower of Gemini stood northwest of the Tower of Cancer.

The towers served as the political residences of the seven Atlantean Royal Families; they each, except for the Clan Order of Drakul, held dominion over the various regions and colonies of the Empire. The Oracle King Artemis built the six zodiac towers–the white and dark towers had already been built in the ages before his time–as a monumental astrological calendar marking the coming ages. He had lived in the Age of Libra, the Golden Age: a time of balanced scales, elegance, beauty, and high art–the zenith of Atlantean peace and prosperity. It was said by him that a dark time would come in the last days of the Age of Virgo and that "a child born to none" would arise and give life to the Age of Leo; the Ages of Cancer, Gemini, and Taurus would then follow to cloak the Mother in shadow.

The crow did not rest until he reached the center of a massive, circular marble surface at the peak of the Tower of Light where stood a tall marble column with a wide base and a pointed crest he could not see. Landing in the shadow of the tall column he looked out and saw the white light of Mount Eve shooting up like a translucent wall all around the circular plane's curved edge; the winds sang a low reverberating tone that caused his bones to quiver. He heard something faint and listened; a whisper within the winds tempted him to see what was below the edge. He walked toward the edge finding shadow mixing white light into grey. Long cool moments passed. The wall of light was then before him, and just when he was about to touch it with his beak a strong draft of wind ruffled his feathers and nearly lifted his body. The wind was soon gone and he felt the full weight of his body again. He bent forward, stretched his neck over the edge, and looked down into the blinding abyss. He lost his balance but quickly managed to step back and catch his breath. It was all too much: the light, and the song of death that now howled deep within the winds. No, it is more than I can bear; to the shadow will I return, and the crow hobbled back to the familiar comforts of the dark.

When sight returned to his eyes he looked out beyond the wall of light and saw the vast Atlantean urban expanse. There were red, blinking dots of light outlining a forest of sky-towers. There were other lights as well, but fear gripped him when lightning flashed. He looked to the west and heard the sky growl. There was something growing there, in the distance, buzzing about in that thin line where earth meets sky. He saw what he believed to be a family of gigantic crows. This is not possible, he thought. He soon realized that they were not crows but things made by the dwellers of the dark city. He called out. Guardian crows soon gathered upon the Tower of Light. Disapprovingly; chaotically; they all screeched at the approaching metallic menace.

He became nervous and flew to the Tower of Drakul landing on the head of one of the many dragon statues that decorated its black marble sides. He looked back to the Tower of Light and saw his fellow crows flying frantically above it. There was a flash of light; the crow cringed, and then there was the boom of thunder. The sound was deafening, as loud as a thousand falling trees that had been cut down at their bases. Then there was fire. In all directions explosions bludgeoned the scene. The crow had never seen such anarchy. He feared for his home: the towers. His frenzied mind could only believe that Mount Eve had awoken from its dormant sleep to heave molten rock and ash into the air.

An intense wave of heat threw the crow into an uncontrolled descent. But he fought gravity and glided back into flight trying desperately to escape the exploding inferno. He wanted to return to the Tower of Drakul, but as he searched for landmarks to set his bearings he discovered that the Tower of Gemini stood no more. He cried out in horror as the metallic beasts mockingly flew by firing beams of red light through all in their path.

Filled with rage he flew between bursting flames to reach and enter the Tower of Drakul through one of its stone-slit openings. He then glided down until an explosion devoured the tower's peak unleashing a wave of fire and ash. The crow dived into the coil of an adjacent staircase, but stone fragments and clouds of dust chased after him and threw him hard against stone steps.

There was silence. There was darkness. The crow gathered himself and shook debris and dust from his body. The torches that lined the walls of the staircase were all extinguished. His eyes searched for light, but there was none. Blood trickled down his leg. He did not know where the blood was flowing from for his head ached and clouded his mind. He limped forward; a surge of pain rushed to his head. He realized that his leg was bruised and that his abdomen had been cut. Exhausted, he sat and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A moment passed and with night eyes he slowly descended the stone staircase.

Broken stones littered his path. He stepped forward trying to avoid the obstructions. The explosions were increasing in frequency causing dust to spill repeatedly down the staircase. He had only descended five steps when he heard two men call out in the distance: "Hello? Is there anyone alive up there?" He cawed in reply. The men called out again hoping to hear a human cry, but they only heard the cries of the crow again. Disappointed they shook their heads and continued, lighting the unlit torches that lined the tunnel before them. The crow listened to the men speak and whisper as they walked away hearing the fear in their hearts shiver their words. Soon their voices faded into nothing.

Afraid and desperate the crow decided to fly down the well of stairs to the flickering torchlights below. He leapt, glided, and landed safely upon the stone floor directly beneath a burning torch. He had no recollection of the tunnel he found himself in. He did not know from where it came or to where it led. He chose the corridor of burning torches the men had disappeared into. Shuffling forward he listened uneasily to the now muffled explosions that released more trapped dust from the stone-lined ceiling.

The crow stopped when he heard the voices of a man and a woman. The man's voice was angry. He looked up and saw a small vent where the wall of the tunnel met the ceiling. The voices were coming from that vent. He ascended into the air, entered the vent, and limped in search of the voices.

The male voice was growing angrier, which he did not like, but if he wanted to survive he had to go to where other living beings were located. He wobbled carefully within the dark vent. The voices were coming from a faint shimmering light at the end of the vent. Ill at ease he thought: What is that light? What is its source? Could it be a flame that I must turn away from? No, it does not burn. It does not sound. What is it then? He reached the end of the vent and saw that he was standing behind the massive head of a glistening golden statue that was surrounded at its base by hundreds of lit candles.

The statue was of the Kai Goddess of the Moon; the goddess sat in a meditative position, legs crossed, hands held flat below her pelvis. The goddess was housed in a stone, high dome chamber lit by the torches that hung from the walls and by the hundreds of candles that surrounded her altar. The flames reflected off the shinning gold of the goddess, causing a fantastic glow. The crow could see that a few offerings of fruits and incense that were lined around the altar had fallen out of their place-holdings. The chamber shook again; more dust and small pieces of marble fell to the floor from the high domed ceiling. The crow called out and flew into the chamber.

Arkan shot his eyes at the black crow and thought: It is a dark omen, yes, to see the black guardian on such a day. His hair was wet from the beads of sweat that had gathered around his scalp. His dark robes, dirtied by dust, covered his body but revealed his boots, which ran up to just below his knees. He looked back to Neva Yun Ra after the crow had landed on the shoulder of the Kai goddess and cemented his grip around her thin arms. He clenched his jaw before he spoke, "You must come with me–we have to leave."

Neva Yun Ra kept her eyes down. Her elegant robes of white, light green, and blue–moist from sweat–cleverly hid her pregnancy. She stuttered, "I can-n not go with you–I can-n not leave her–I cannot–"

Arkan pulled her close, "I have sworn my life to you. I will not let you be murdered in this place. I will not let my child be killed here."

"Our child!" Neva Yun Ra contested. The stone chamber echoed her words in a shrill that traveled up into the apex of the high domed ceiling; the black crow nearly flew in fright. She continued, "This child is ours, not yours. We cannot leave the Oracle. We have sworn our lives to her. How can you abandon whom you have sworn to protect?"

Arkan's hardened eyes bore into her; again, she looked down. He tightened his hands around her arms, hurting her. He drew her close; his heart pulsed like a deep drum; the cold metal of his long sword bit into her waist. And as his heart thumped he began to shake: first his shoulders, then his arms, and then his chest and neck. It was a sign of his devotion to her. But his mind, his mind fought hard against his heart. Stoic men do not tremble and never do they fear for they embrace death and honor love only from a distance. Such was the religion of his mind.

It was nearly a year past when they had first lain together. He had not sought anything from her; he had only wanted to rest his wearied body. Before he fell to sleep she entrapped him with a passionate haste drawing her lips close to his; he began shaking as if cold air was frisking his skin. But there was no draft of wind. It was warm within her chamber; firelight danced upon stonewalls as wood burned and crackled.

He spoke: "My body behaves so when it is filled with emotion. It does not know what to do; it trembles when my heart seeks to speak."

She looked at him as he spoke. His eyes were closed, his face, serene. She could see that he was falling deep into his inner self. She tried to warm him, but he explained, "I am not cold. The air is as warm as the heat I feel from your chest. My body shakes for it weeps for my heart. My mind is battling her, but soon my mind will give way and my heart shall speak, and warmth will fill me like an unborn child deep within his mother's belly."

Then his trembling stopped as if it never were. "This is the heart of Arkan that speaks to you." Neva Yun Ra looked at him with intense eyes. "I remember the first time I saw you," he took a deep breath and exhaled as memories filled him. "You frightened me ... I was in disbelief of you ... I could not look at you. You were so beautiful ... so, so beautiful that I could not bear it. Never had I known such sadness as when I first saw you. I cursed our shared faith.

"And now here we are, and I am happy for this is how it should be. My heart cannot bear the silence of Kai loneliness."

A large explosion shook the chamber of the Kai Goddess of the Moon launching the black crow into a panicked flight. "I have sworn my life to protect you and only you. We don't have time for this–Yun!"

The trill echoes of the crow's cries and his thrashing wings filled the chamber. Neva Yun Ra, frightened by the crow, hugged and buried her face within Arkan's chest. Arkan pushed her away, looked into her eyes and said, "Forgive me." He jumped and kicked, striking her right temple and knocking her unconscious. He caught her before she fell to the floor and carried her into the shadow of the moon goddess.

The black crow searched for a high ledge to rest upon, but there was none and as his tired wings weakened he slowly descended to the cold floor. He was, as before, alone. He listened to the sound of his approaching death; beating drums that shook stone, freeing more dust.