Superstition. It's a fascinating phenomenon: collective fear and suspicion passed on through generations, humanity's rooted distrust in the very world that gives it life. In the origins of these modern traditions, there is usually a pattern of logic to be found, however lost and faded it may seem. To be mortal is to have a lust for reasoning, a longing for these explanations, an eternal voice in your mind that asks the same question on repeat until you are finally silenced forever: "why?" A healthy fear of the mundane provides both the answer, and the question; superstitions exist as a product of themselves, a feeble attempt to add meaning to an otherwise orderless universe. And yet for all the reasoning in the world, there is one creature accursed to humanity that I cannot bring myself to cower from: to me, the crow is a magnificent animal.

I have never encountered a person who was not uneasy around the birds. It wasn't as if many of them could offer an explanation for their hesitancy either. I can see the symbolism, to a degree. The predatorial rush of the hunt, the rotten dread that follows the scavenge, crows have somehow become a universal symbol for death, in only the most negative of connotations. Unfortunately for the paranoid, The Sanctuary follows through on the empty threats of the human world, and presents travellers with an unpredictable horror of its own: a corvid that is not only a metaphorical symbol of the end, but rather a conniving warning of peril.

If you haven't yet seen the Oracle, do not skip over my words in indifference. I can promise, the Oracle has seen you. It is only just short of inevitable, bordering on unavoidable, and it waits with the utmost patience for that destined moment; it will wait forever, if it has to.

Contrarily, should my warnings find you a bumbling and panicked mess before the crow and its illusions, this lengthy foreword may have come across as frustratingly unnecessary. I sympathize, but as always, I ask that you trust me and my methods: the Oracle cannot hurt you as long as you are distracted. My musings have only bought you time. Use it to steady yourself. You will need to be calm when you face its prophecies.

When it is time, the Oracle will make itself known. It is a silent wonder, even its wings cutting noiselessly through the air as it flies. There are no warning signs, no indicators for its imminent arrival. Suddenly, it will simply be present, and you will know it is there. If you are lucky, you will be blessed with this information before being cursed by the sight of its inky, void-coloured feathers.

As I mentioned, the Oracle's patience is boundless. It will watch from its omniscient perch and observe your actions with a curious hunger, until you meet its gaze. You are by no means restricted in terms of location, as the creature will simply take flight to follow, but be warned: you cannot walk away from the Oracle. Knowing of its presence is a burden in itself, and it is not one your sanity may carry forever. It will show you its visions eventually, even if only to showcase its mirage of horror before dying eyes as your soul leaves this world behind. Take your time, but do not take any longer than you need to prepare. It is not worth the weight of the Oracle resting on your psyche.

Do not look at it until you are ready. It will only ever make its move when it has your complete attention; it wants you to fully admire the performance. While it is possible to pause its premonitions after they have been dictated, it is much harder to truly distract oneself when our lives are in immediate danger. I trust you know yourself well enough to decide when the time has come to play with Fate itself.

When you do give it the attention it commands, it will speak to you. The words will not come from its body, or any direction at all, for that matter. Its voice will echo in your mind with a depth that competes with the ocean itself, and the bird will watch with a sick calmness as you writhe under its grasp. Sometimes, in the fleeting light of the sunset, cast between shadow and bright orange light, its beak twists ever so slightly in what could only resemble a knowing, perverted smile.

And then, as the voice falls silent and your mind feels empty in its absence, its prophecies will appear.

It would be easy to dilute the threat of these apparitions, to mistake their fickle relationship with reality for transparency. Do not underestimate the power of the Oracle. The bird's influence in this realm is infinitely greater than that of your insignificant existence, and its control over your mind will reflect that; peril is often magnified when you face it alone.

It does not matter if you travel through The Sanctuary without the comfort of others, or with a large group of companions; should your time with the Oracle arrive, it is a battle you must fight on your own. Its orchestral voice will speak only in your skull, its curses will only befall your ears, and its creations will only appear before your weary eyes. Any fellow travellers may question your terror and grand movements, or lack thereof, but the byproduct of embarrassment is the least of your worries. They will meet the Oracle too, someday, and they will not be laughing then.

A survivor with lesser experience would tell you to pay attention to the words of the great corvid, that its warnings may somehow save your life. While the Oracle's poems are often beautiful, dark and twisted in a way that the legendary writers of old could only aspire to mimic, they will not provide you with any information you will not soon find out. I only hope you do not fulfill its predictions, for when the voice resonating in your mind tells you how you will die, it will not be a comforting sight to see the exact circumstances manifesting around you.

The Oracle is a fan of spectacle, and tends to prefer dramatic premonitions over the mundane; you are much more likely to find yourself staring into the eyes of a vicious and magnificent predator than at your shrivelled hands as your old and weathered heart slowly beats to a stop. It will choose violence over mercy, and creativity over predictability every time, and it has never been known to reuse prophecies. As such, there is no way for me to assist you in the obvious battle that will ensue. All I can offer is one piece of advice: aim for the eyes. The Oracle draws much of its power from sight, and while its own ocular symbology is incredibly strong, it does not share this strength with its children. Treat them as a target, if they exist in your personal demise, and of course, continue to struggle against your prescribed destiny until death enters this world. I pray that it isn't yours.

It may be confident and powerful, but The Sanctuary's pet crow knows when it has been bested. The bird is a proud creature, and will accept defeat with grace. That doesn't mean, however, that as it flies away, it will not offer one more couplet to your open mind, and I guarantee that this one will ring true eventually, before the clock of time stops ticking. The second one always comes true. Until then, do yourself a favour: do not share the Oracle's words with anyone else. Fate is a deceitful and crafty business, a personal one at that.

And you never know who your enemies are in The Sanctuary.