GERALD & THE FEATHERED BANDITS — PART IV: THE CROW AND THE CANDLE Three knocks. That's how last night ended. Three slow, deliberate knocks from beneath my home. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Ill fortune always bears three fruits. And apparently... one of them lives in my fucking basement now. Fantastic. Sleep did not come to me. For Kitten it did. How? I could not tell you. I spent majority of the night sitting on my couch staring at the ground while Gerald remained perched outside my window. Watching. Waiting. No movement in the slightest. Every so often I'd glance over at him. He'd glance at me. Neither of us hummed. Our relationship had reached the silent-treatment phase within the marriage. Around 3:17 AM, Kitten wandered into the room nuzzled in a blanket. "Has Satan's pigeon moved?" "No." "Anymore knocking?" "No." "Fantastic." She turned back around. "Where are you going?" "Back to bed." "THERE IS AN ANCIENT EVIL UNDER MY HOUSE!" She took a pregnant pause. Looked at me. "And what exactly would you like me to do about that at three in the fucking morning?" ... Valid. She disappeared down the hall. I looked back toward Gerald. "Your recruit is incredibly useful." From outside: Hmmm. "Fuck off." But something had been bothering me. Gerald knew that thing was down there. He had known from the very beginning. The map. The crown. The scouting. The army. He didn't wake it by accident. He wanted it to be awoken. And suddenly... I wasn't sure whose side I was actually on. At sunrise, Gerald finally moved. He tapped the window. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Absolutely fucking not." Tap. Tap. Tap. "Gerald, we've already established three is incredibly ominous." Hmmm. Then he flew away. I sighed. Grabbed my stick crown. And followed him. Because apparently survival instincts are most optional equipment and mine didn't come with factory-installment. Kitten followed behind me. "Where are we going?" "Your guess is as good as mine." "Excellent. Loving that for us." Gerald led us back into the woods. But not toward the dungeon. Not toward the stone. Somewhere else. Somewhere deeper. Eventually we reached an behemoth dead oak. Its branches were twisted together like fingers. Hundreds of strips of black cloth hung from them. At the base of the tree sat something strange. A candle. Just one. Gerald landed beside it. Kitten stopped. "No." "He hasn't even done anything yet." "There is a single candle beneath a decayed tree covered in black ribbons. I've seen enough horror movies to understand basic fucking foreshadowing." Gerald ignored her. He tapped the ground. Scratched beneath the leaves. And uncovered something. A small stone tablet. There was writing carved into it. No symbols this time. Just words. Old and weathered. But legible. At the top: THE CROW AND THE CANDLE Gerald perched beside it. And somehow... I knew he wanted me to read. So I did. Once there was a crow who ruled over a starving flock. Winter had swallowed the land. The trees bore no fruit. The rivers became stone. And each morning the crow awoke to fewer voices than the morning before. One night, the crow saw a candle burning inside the home of Man. The crow knew that fire had belonged to the Man. The crow knew taking it was forbidden. But the crow also knew his children were freezing. So he stole the flame. He carried it home in his beak. The fire warmed the first nest. Then the second. Then the third. And the flock rejoiced. The crow had saved them. But wherever the candle burned... a shadow appeared. At first, the shadow was small. So the flock ignored it. As the flame grew... so did the shadow. Until eventually... the shadow became hungry. The flock begged their King to extinguish the flame. But winter still surrounded them. Without the fire, they would freeze. With the fire... the shadow would feed. And so the King was given a choice. Extinguish the flame and allow many to perish. Or... choose one bird each night for the shadow. I stopped reading. Kitten stopped making jokes. The latter concerned me more than anything. I looked at Gerald. "What did the King choose?" Gerald didn't move. I looked back at the stone. There was one final line. I brushed the dirt away. And read it. The King fed the shadow. Silence. "Jesus Christ." Kitten whispered. Gerald looked at me. I suddenly understood why he'd brought me here. "No." Gerald tilted his head. "No, Gerald." Hmmm. "I know what you're asking, and I am saying NO." Kitten looked between us. "Well, fantastic, because I fucking don't." I pointed toward the story. "He's asking what I would choose." Gerald nodded. Kitten stared at him. "You're giving her a fucking ethics exam?" Hmmm. "YOU KIDNAPPED ME FOR THIS ORGANIZATION AND NOW THERE'S HOMEWORK?" Normally I would have laughed. I couldn't. Because Gerald was still staring at me. Waiting. I looked back at the tablet. One life. For many. Simple mathematics. Horrifying mathematics. And suddenly the crown on my head felt weighted. "I wouldn't choose." Gerald's feathers shifted. Hmmm. "I said I wouldn't choose." Gerald tapped the tablet. Harder. "There has to be another way." He tapped again. "I'm not feeding anyone to a monster just because a fucking rock says those are my options." Gerald screamed. The forest erupted. Hundreds of crows descended from the trees. Kitten grabbed my arm. Gerald flew directly in front of me. Angry. Not annoyed. Not impatient. Furious. And I finally snapped. "YOU MADE ME KING!" Silence. Even Gerald stopped. "Remember?" I pulled the crown from my head. "You brought me into this." I stepped closer. "You put this stupid fucking collection of shrubbery on my head." Kitten whispered: "Very regal." "Thank you." I pointed at Gerald. "So if I'm King, then I decide." Gerald stared at me. "And I will not sacrifice someone just because it's convenient." Hmmm. "I don't care if that's what the last King did." Gerald froze. There. Something changed. The crows began whispering amongst themselves. Tiny clicks. Soft caws. Restless wings. And suddenly I realized... The story wasn't about some ancient crow. Gerald lowered his head. "Gerald..." He wouldn't look at me. Oh. Oh fuck. I turned toward the tablet. The King fed the shadow. One bird every night. Again. And again. And again. Until winter ended. I looked at Gerald. "That was your King." Silence. "Wasn't it?" Gerald closed his eyes. Hmmm. Kitten whispered: "Oh fuck." For once...accurate and appropriately timed. Gerald hadn't brought me here to learn how to defeat the thing beneath my house. He brought me here because he'd seen this once before. His flock had survived it before. And Gerald knew the price. "How many?" Gerald didn't answer. "How many birds did he sacrifice?" Nothing. Then the forest moved. One crow descended. He was old. He was missing feathers. One of his eyes clouded white. Then another. Then another. They were scarred. They were broken. They grew silent. Survivors. There had been another war. Another King. Another shadow. And suddenly Gerald's obsession with loyalty made terrifying sense. Why betrayal had mattered. Why he tested Kitten. Why he watched me. Why he needed to know what kind of King I would become. I looked down at the crown that rested in my hands. Maybe that was the real fable. Not the crow. Not the candle. Not even the shadow. The King. Because anyone can promise to protect everyone when protection costs absolutely nothing. Leadership becomes something entirely different when the saving of many requires you to look at one innocent soul...and decide they are expendable. I placed the crown back upon my head. "I'm not your old King." Gerald stared at me. "Nobody is getting fed to anything." A long pause. Then— THUMP. The ground shook. Kitten sighed. "Of fucking course." THUMP. Birds exploded from the branches. Gerald remained. THUMP. Closer. The candle beneath the tree suddenly ignited. Nobody touched it. Its tiny flame flickered. And behind Gerald... his shadow stretched across the ground. Longer. Longer. Longer. Until it reached my feet. Except... Gerald hadn't moved. The flame hadn't moved. But the shadow had. Kitten whispered: "Bexxy." "I see it." The shadow crawled over my boots...up my legs...across my chest. Then stopped directly over the crown. Gerald screamed. The candle went out. Darkness. And from somewhere beneath the earth... something whispered. Not a hum. Not a knock. Spoken words.. "A King who will sacrifice nothing..." The voice came from every direction. The soil. The trees. My bones. Then it laughed. Low. Ancient. Starving. "…will eventually sacrifice everything." Silence. Kitten grabbed my hand. Gerald stared into the darkness. I swallowed. "Well." Kitten looked at me. "Don't." "I was just going to say—" "Whatever sarcastic bullshit you're about to say, DON'T." ... Fair. Gerald slowly turned towards me. And for once... I didn't need him to hum. I understood. The thing beneath my home had just challenged the King. And I had answered. Nobody was being sacrificed. Nobody was being offered. Nobody was becoming food for some ancient shadow because tradition said that's how this story ends. Maybe that made me brave. Maybe it made me foolish. More than likely both. But here's the thing about old fables: They're supposed to teach you how the story ends. Nobody ever said you had to obey them. I looked toward Gerald. Gerald looked toward me. I nodded. He nodded. Kitten sighed. "You two are about to do something entirely fucking stupid, aren't you?" Gerald: Hmmm. Me: "Abso-fucking-lutely." Kitten stared at us. "I want my walnut back." And somewhere deep beneath the earth... the shadow laughed again. Because apparently... Phase Two had begun.