“Sha sha sha, sha sha sha.” The egg stared down at him, preening in his new gear and shiny weapons, one foot out the door and eager to begin a new hunt. Korakis was to be left behind.

  This egg was not yet ready to hunt on his own without Korakis’s aid. He had not yet even hatched, much less grown into the limits of his strength, but Korakis was currently powerless to stop him. The egg might return, or he might not. He might defeat his foes and secure more light for himself and his master, or he might become a worm and food for others. At least he had taken the weapon Korakis had procured for him and secured it about his neck with a string. Not that it would help much if he didn’t know how to use it.

  He would not be the first promising egg to decide he was not an egg and instead a worm, food for birds.

  “Sha sha, Korakis.” The worm’s words of farewell fell on deaf ears. The bound crkkzz in his chest buzzed with the meaning, but the raven paid neither the worm nor his translated words any mind. There were more important things than worrying about the fate of his chosen egg. He had already proven his usefulness as a tool, many times over. The latest example was in gaining inside access to this deeply fortified nest. His egg had failed to fully take advantage, but Korakis would correct that error.

  The true hunter was patient, and Korakis was patient. The true hunter also struck when the time to strike came.

  After an hour had passed, he judged the time was ripe. The time to secure the light he needed to regain a fraction of the strength he had lost.

  He hopped down to the corner of the room, brushing aside the egg’s mess. He drew upon the reserves of light housed within the crkkzz within his chest, pitting his vast will against its tiny, grasping nature to fill his beak with power.

  Crack. The stone chipped away. Crack. Crack. It chipped again. Korakis was patient, but he also yearned for the return of his strength; the strength he had lost in an instant, vaporized by the Hidden One, a fearsome being. The blow had arrived unseen, the light hidden from him in smoke until the instant it had erupted in blinding pain, shattering his core.

  Perhaps he had been an ancient one in disguise. A hidden master, returning to his lair to find it pillaged. Korakis did not know, nor did he care. He only knew that one day, the Hidden One’s light would be his own after he tore the biped’s chest open and bathed in his blood.

  He despised the crkkzz that had been implanted in his chest, but he knew the egg had used it to save his life so that the egg could continue to benefit from Korakis’s patient instruction. He could not blame the egg for being an egg, but that did not sate his anger.

  His next peck slammed a foot through the stone, breaking into a small tunnel, one meter square. A fat pipe filled with wastewater ran along the bottom of the tunnel. Korakis followed the tunnel until it joined other tunnels, the wastewater pipes joining larger pipes. He paused at the junction to orient himself to the goal in his vision: the densest source of light in this entire nest.

  There were many sources of light, many of them moving. Many were the bipedal members guarding this nest, the light bound to their bodies shining brightly, the light kept within their crkkzz shining more dimly, hidden within deeper folds. Despite the size of this nest, it was guarded so poorly! Korakis cawed softly to himself; he would have it no other way. Those who failed to protect their light deserved to surrender it to those more worthy than themselves.

  And the most worthy? Korakis could think of none other than himself.

  He traversed the tunnels until he was directly below the light that he desired for himself. It was the best hidden, most certainly, but not concealed to Korakis’s eyes. Even he had not seen it at first, but not much could remain unrevealed before him. Thrice folded, buried and obscured… it was a valiant effort, but nothing could remain unseen before the power of Korakis to pierce the veil.

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  Except for the strike of the Hidden One.

  Korakis clawed the stolen light from within his chest to empower his beak and smashed the ceiling of the tunnel above him. He continued pecking upwards, slowing when he came close to its boundary.

  The light was hidden, but if it were his, as the light shortly would be, then it would be unprotected. There would be traps.

  He studied the folds of the world, of the fabric that light danced across as well as the higher planes of matter and sound. There were traps, but they were all protecting the light from above. There was only one below it; a simple matrix that hid the light from most.

  Korakis cawed to himself again, laughing at the foolish wards of this nest.

  Korakis continued digging upwards, moving through stone and now wood. Carefully and precisely. Korakis’s pecks were precise, exact strikes of force, as they should be, from a masterful raven as himself.

  Golden pills fell into the tunnel out of their wooden box. The fresh smell of the earth, the sky, and the majestic trees bridging the two filled the wastewater access tunnel. The light that had been folded and bound into patterns to hide these precious treasures was broken and scattered.

  Korakis picked up one of the pills in his beak and grasped the other two in each claw. He took short hops down the tunnel, flapping his wings to quickly make his getaway.

  A faint buzz came from behind. Korakis dropped the pill, turned and with a flash, pierced the pestilent flying machine through its housing, ripping it apart.

  Within seconds, more drones arrived, and with them, a buzzing sounded within the crkkzz in his chest. He ignored it, focusing on the mechanical flies come to steal his treasure. The audacity, the temerity, to attempt to steal what he had stolen.

  The drones stayed out of his range, respectful of his prowess. Korakis cawed in frustration. He preferred stupid, weak, or overconfident enemies. Best if all three.

  “Crk, hzrrk, crrrrrrk.”

  Korakis cocked his head at the machine that was speaking to him. The words were passible. Understandable, but he knew that these fake imitations of his abilities, crafted from metal and plastic, were not capable of such things as thought and speech. A poor deceit, easily seen through.

  “You seem to have found something interesting. Very interesting. It, much like yourself, should not be here.” The voice continued speaking in Korakis’s native tongue, but Korakis had figured out the trick. These drones, these flies, were not really speaking with him. They were relaying speech after receiving it upon waves of light from deep within the bowels of the nest.

  Was this Disembodied One the true guardian of the nest? Was it the Hidden One? Korakis dismissed the idea immediately. His enemy would not have spoken with him, but struck without warning or mercy.

  Korakis could not sense the Disembodied One’s core, even if he could hear his voice. Was he hiding his true power, as the Hidden One had? Anger warred with self-preservation, and pragmatism struggled with what Korakis knew to be rightfully his. He decided to show the Disembodied One that he saw through this subterfuge, and spoke to him through the distasteful crkkzz.

  

  

  Korakis thought for a moment, as more and more drones began appearing in the tunnels around him.