"He saw the human everywhere," Ezrahl whispered back, "The shadow never left, never said anything, never did anything. But it followed him everywhere."
The false raven tried to reach out to his parents again.
But he was their shame, a stain that reminded them how many years of effort have gone down the drain. They never came to him, he could not leave the groves.
Each day, he felt uneasy and uncomfortable under his skin. There were no answers to his misery, but every stitch of his feathers burned like hell.
At the end of a lone night, he took a needle and cut the stitches one by one. His mana held the needle firm as the black feathers fell down with drops of crimson.
Aesther had lost her sleep and now stared at Ezrahl's peacefully closed eyes in disbelief.
"Next morning, his parents returned," he said, "feeling remorse for being away from their son for so long."
She let out a heavy sigh of relief.
