Silver stood in the center of his dimly lit quarters, his irritation palpable. With a low, resentful hiss, he untied the sash of the heavy white purification robe, stripping it off his shoulders. The pristine fabric, now marred by ugly streaks of Rosateen's royal blood, felt like a shackle. As he tossed the tainted garment onto a nearby velvet chair, he lifted his amber eyes, instantly locking onto the dark, obsidian silhouette of a crow perched on the high ledge of his window.
"Oh... so it is you, Black."
Instead of shattering the glass and risking the attention of the palace guards, the crow slipped his sharp beak through the slightly ajar frame, nudging the heavy wood open with practiced, silent precision. It hopped inside, shifting into the shadows of the room. Within a fraction of a second, the avian form twisted and expanded, the darkness molding its features until it solidified into his human state.
