The Raven Man - Illusions/Shapeshifting

More and more ravens began to pursue her. They’d fly ahead, cluster unkindly upon a single tree, occupying every branch. And as she passed, the birds would depart en masse and descend upon the next tree, only by that time there’d be still more of them. And more at the next tree. And more at the next.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” she grumbled, knowing he could hear her even if she never spoke the words aloud.

It was almost getting ridiculous. In a flurry of black wings, the ravens launched themselves (himself) off one tree and descended upon another that could barely bear the weight of them all (him all).

***

A single raven descended, morphing into her second greatest nemesis: the Raven Man. He was just how she remembered him from her childhood. His precisely trimmed white hair and beard, his immaculate—if slightly dated—mode of dress. His shining golden eyes. “Still dapper, after all these years,” she said to him in a tone that belied the compliment.

He isn’t just how I remember him. He’s exactly how I remember him.

An illusion then. Or maybe he was a very precise shapeshifter. Either way, she knew that what she saw was no more real, no more him, than the birds had been. After all these years, she still didn’t know what he really looked like. Or who he truly was.

***

War of the Spark: Foraken, Chapter 5