Chapter 4: Crows and Correspondence
POV: Adam/Pavel
The morning drill was supposed to be routine. Sergeant Yure had paired the soldiers off for basic sword work—nothing fancy, just the fundamental cuts and parries that kept you alive when the enemy decided diplomacy wasn't working.
Adam faced off against Mikhael, a stocky soldier with gap teeth and the easy confidence of someone who'd grown up fighting. The wooden practice swords felt less foreign in Adam's hands now, Pavel's muscle memory slowly integrating with his own knowledge.
"Ready, Pavel?" Mikhael asked, raising his blade.
"As ready as someone with a speech curse and a game system can be."
"Dancing bears love—"
Adam cut himself off, focusing on the simple nod instead. Mikhael grinned and came forward with a basic overhead strike.
The blade descended in a slow, predictable arc. Adam stepped aside and brought his own sword up to parry, the impact sending vibrations up his arm. Not elegant, but functional.
"Better!" Mikhael called. "You're not trying to swat flies anymore."
They settled into a rhythm—attack, parry, counter-attack. Adam found himself actually enjoying the physicality of it, the way Pavel's body responded to the familiar movements. For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt almost competent.
It was during one of these exchanges that he noticed the crow.
The bird perched on a supply crate just outside the practice ring, watching the proceedings with an intelligence that seemed almost human. It was larger than most crows, with glossy black feathers and a distinctive white streak across its left wing.
"That's... probably just a coincidence."
But as Adam and Mikhael continued their bout, the crow remained fixed on him specifically. When he moved left, its head tracked the movement. When he scored a successful parry, it tilted its head as if taking notes.
[PROXIMITY BONUS ACTIVATED]
[GRISHA INSTRUCTOR DETECTED]
[+10 EXP GAINED]
[EMOTIONAL INTENSITY: FOCUS x1.1]
[BONUS EXP: +1]
[CURRENT EXP: 20/100]
The notification drew Adam's attention away from the crow just long enough for Mikhael's next attack to catch him off guard. The practice blade caught him across the ribs, not hard enough to injure but firm enough to drive home the lesson about maintaining focus.
"Ow." Adam rubbed his side and glanced toward the Grisha instructor—a stern-faced Squaller who was demonstrating wind techniques to a group of First Army officers.
The instructor raised his hands, and Adam felt the familiar tingle that accompanied Grisha power usage. Wind swirled around the man's fingers, forming visible currents in the air.
"Watch this," the instructor called to his audience. "Basic directional control requires precise manipulation of air pressure—"
Without thinking, Adam took a step closer to get a better view. The [Nullify] field activated automatically, its one-meter range barely touching the edge of the demonstration.
But it was enough.
The carefully controlled winds suddenly scattered like startled birds. The instructor stumbled as his power flickered and died, leaving him grasping at empty air. The watching officers murmured in confusion.
"Oh, shit."
"What happened?" one of the officers asked.
The Squaller looked around in confusion, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on Adam. For a moment, their gazes locked, and Adam saw recognition dawn in the man's expression.
"He knows. He can sense what I did."
"Technical difficulty," the instructor said carefully, still watching Adam. "Let me try again."
Adam backed away quickly, putting distance between himself and the demonstration. The Squaller's power returned immediately, wind swirling around his hands with renewed force.
"Magnificent purple butterflies are organizing a rebellion!" Adam called out, trying to look as harmless and brain-damaged as possible.
Several soldiers laughed. The Squaller's suspicious expression softened into something approaching pity.
"Good. Let him think I'm just another broken soldier."
But as Adam returned to his bout with Mikhael, he caught sight of the crow again. It was still watching him, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear the bird looked pleased about something.
The afternoon brought more drills, more proximity bonuses, and more unsettling attention from the white-streaked crow. No matter where Adam went in the camp, the bird seemed to appear within minutes, perching on whatever elevated surface offered the best view.
"You've got an admirer," Mal observed during their water break. He nodded toward the crow, which had taken up residence on a nearby tent pole.
"Enchanted teacups are holding secret meetings!"
"Right. Head injury." Mal studied the bird with tracker's eyes. "Though it is odd behavior for a crow. They're usually not this... focused."
"Focused is one word for it. Stalking is another."
Dubrov, a lanky soldier with prematurely gray hair, looked up from cleaning his sword. "My grandmother always said crows were omens. Good luck or bad, depending on their behavior."
"What kind of behavior is this one showing?" Mal asked.
Dubrov squinted at the crow, which obligingly tilted its head and made a soft clicking sound. "Watchful. Patient. Like it's waiting for something."
"Crystallized moonbeams make terrible fashion accessories!"
"Or maybe it just likes Pavel's poetry," Mikhael suggested with a grin.
The crow chose that moment to spread its wings and caw once—a sharp, distinctive sound that made every soldier in earshot look up. Then it took flight, circling once overhead before disappearing toward the camp's perimeter.
"Thank God. Maybe now I can—"
Adam's boot squelched as he took a step. He looked down to find his left foot—the same one that had been liberated by the goat that morning—was now thoroughly soaked.
Inside his boot, he could feel something crinkled and foreign.
"No way. It couldn't have..."
"I need to..." Adam gestured vaguely toward the latrine area. "Personal business."
Mal nodded absently, already turning back to his conversation with Dubrov about crow omens and their grandmother's superstitions.
Adam made his way to the edge of camp, then ducked behind a supply wagon to examine his boot. Sure enough, wedged down beside his foot was a small roll of paper, somehow delivered without him noticing.
His hands shook slightly as he unrolled it. The handwriting was precise, economical:
The sun-summoner walks among sheep. The wolves circle, patient and hungry. Some shepherds have sharper eyes than others.
Watch the maps. Trust the dreams. The void-touched leave ripples.
- K
"K. Kaz Brekker. It has to be."
Adam read the note three times, his mind racing. Someone in Ketterdam knew about Alina before her powers had even manifested. Knew enough to send a crow hundreds of miles to deliver cryptic warnings.
But the most unsettling part was the reference to 'void-touched.' That wasn't a term from the show or books. It sounded like something the system might use.
"How much does Kaz know? And how the hell is he getting information from a crow?"
A rustling in the nearby bushes made Adam look up. The white-streaked crow had returned, perching on the wagon's canvas cover directly above him. It looked down with those intelligent black eyes and made a soft clicking sound.
"You're working for him, aren't you?" Adam whispered.
The crow tilted its head and clicked again.
"I'm talking to a bird. A bird that may or may not be part of an elaborate intelligence network run by a teenage crime lord."
Adam folded the note carefully and tucked it inside his shirt. Whatever game Kaz was playing, Adam was apparently a piece on the board. The question was whether that made him an ally or a target.
[CORRESPONDENCE RECEIVED]
[EXTERNAL INTELLIGENCE NETWORK DETECTED]
[ANALYSIS: PROBABLE ALLY]
[WARNING: INFORMATION SHARING RISK]
[RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN OPERATIONAL SECURITY]
"Operational security. Right. Because talking to crows is totally normal."
As if reading his thoughts, the crow spread its wings and took flight again, this time heading directly toward the Grisha quarters. Adam watched it go, then made his way back toward the main camp.
The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and red that reminded him uncomfortably of fire. Somewhere beyond the horizon, the Shadow Fold waited like a wound in the world.
Two days. Maybe three. Then the crossing orders would come, and Alina would discover what she really was.
Adam touched the note hidden against his chest and wondered if Kaz's intelligence network extended far enough to know about that particular timeline. If it did, then the crow's appearance might not be coincidence.
It might be preparation.
"Watch the maps. Trust the dreams."
Adam thought about the visions he'd experienced when touching the Fold charts. The future spreading out before him like a map of possibilities.
If Kaz knew about those too, then Adam might not be as alone in this as he'd thought.
The crow's distant caw echoed across the camp, and somewhere in the gathering darkness, plans within plans began to unfold.
POV: The Crow
The vessel banked left, riding thermals that spoke of distant storms. Below, the human settlement sprawled in its predictable patterns—food sources here, threat sources there, the bright-coat ones clustering in their silk-wrapped spaces.
The target moved among the dull-coats, his void-song a constant whisper against properly-ordered reality. Useful. Dangerous. Interesting.
The vessel's original mind had been small, focused on simple needs: food, territory, flock-safety. But the new presence riding within skull-walls brought different hungers. Information. Connection. The vast web of knowing that stretched across water and land.
The target has received the message.
Good. The boss will want to know.
The vessel's beak clicked once in acknowledgment, then tilted into a dive toward the bright-tents. The heart-fast ones were arguing again, their powers flickering like candle flames in wind. The void-singer's presence made their magics... uncertain.
This will cause problems. The boss likes problems that can be turned to profit.
The vessel settled on a tent pole, preening while watching. The heart-fast ones gestured and spoke in their sharp-tongue, unaware of the small intelligence recording their words.
Soon. Soon the crossing-orders would come, and the sun-summoner would discover her burning truth. The boss had plans for that moment. Plans within plans, wheels within wheels.
The vessel spread wings and lifted toward darkening sky. There were other messages to carry, other watchers to coordinate. The great game was beginning, and every piece needed to know its role.
Behind, the void-singer stared after the flight-path with knowing eyes.
Smart one, that. Knows he's watched. Knows he's valued.
The boss chose well.
POV: Alina Starkov
The letters swam on the page, refusing to resolve into words that made sense. Alina rubbed her eyes and tried again, but the supply manifest remained stubbornly incomprehensible. She'd been staring at it for twenty minutes, and all she had to show for her efforts was a growing headache.
"When did I become so scattered?"
The map room was quiet except for the scratch of Petyr's pen and the distant sounds of evening camp life. Through the tent walls, she could hear soldiers sharing stories around cooking fires, their voices warm with camaraderie.
She envied them that easy belonging.
"Alina?" Petyr looked up from his own work. "You seem distracted today."
"Just tired." She managed a smile. "Long day."
It wasn't entirely a lie. The days had been getting longer lately, filled with an restlessness she couldn't name. Sleep brought strange dreams—visions of light and darkness, of creatures with too many teeth and eyes like dying stars.
"Perhaps you should take a break. Walk the camp, get some air."
Alina nodded gratefully and stepped outside. The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and horses. Above, the first stars were beginning to appear in a sky the color of deep water.
She found herself walking toward the kitchen area, drawn by the warm glow of cook fires and the bustle of meal preparation. It was there that she spotted a familiar figure hunched over a pile of potatoes.
Pavel. The cartographer's assistant with the head injury and the peculiar way of speaking.
He looked up as she approached, and something in his expression made her pause. There was an intensity there, a focus that seemed at odds with his supposed condition.
"Pavel," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Rainbow fish are learning to tap dance!"
The words were as nonsensical as always, but his eyes... his eyes were sharp, intelligent. Watching her with an attention that made her skin prickle.
"There's something different about him. Something I can't quite..."
"Are you working late?" she asked, settling onto the bench beside him.
He nodded, then made a gesture toward the Grisha dining area. She followed his gaze and saw several figures in their colored coats moving through the space.
"Do you ever wonder what it would be like?" she heard herself ask. "To be one of them?"
Pavel's hands stilled on the potato he was peeling. When he looked at her, there was something almost like recognition in his expression.
"That's a strange response. Almost like he knows something."
"I mean," she continued, not sure why she was sharing this with someone who couldn't answer coherently, "sometimes I feel like I'm waiting for something. Like there's another life just out of reach."
Pavel set down his knife and reached out as if to touch her hand. But before contact was made, he pulled back, shaking his head.
"Enchanted rabbits are hosting a tea party in my imagination!"
Despite the absurdity of the words, his tone was gentle. Almost... protective?
"Why do I feel like he's trying to tell me something important?"
A commotion from the Grisha area drew their attention. One of the Heartrenders was gesturing angrily while his companion tried to calm him down.
"—power just died. No warning, no reason. Something interfered—"
"Ivan, you're being paranoid. Equipment fails sometimes."
"This wasn't equipment failure, Fedyor. This was something else."
Alina glanced at Pavel, who had gone very still. His eyes were fixed on the arguing Grisha with an expression she couldn't read.
"Do you think they're right?" she asked quietly. "That something is interfering with Grisha powers?"
Pavel looked at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded.
The gesture was small, barely perceptible. But it was also completely coherent—the first non-verbal response she'd seen from him that didn't involve frustrated gestures or confused head-shaking.
"He understood the question. And he answered it."
Before she could process this revelation fully, a shadow passed overhead. Alina looked up to see a large crow circling the camp, its distinctive white-marked wing catching the firelight.
When she looked back at Pavel, he was watching the bird with the same intense focus he'd shown her earlier.
"What is going on here?"
"I should get back," she said finally, standing. "Petyr will wonder where I've gone."
Pavel nodded again—another clear, intentional gesture.
As she walked away, Alina couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just been part of a conversation conducted entirely in subtext. That Pavel, despite his apparent condition, had understood every word she'd said.
And more disturbing still, that he might know things about her that she didn't know herself.
The crow cawed once overhead, and Alina hurried back toward the map room, her earlier restlessness replaced by something approaching unease.
POV: Adam/Pavel
Adam watched Alina disappear into the map tent, his chest tight with everything he couldn't say. The conversation had been a minefield—every question loaded with implications he couldn't address, every response filtered through the speech curse that kept his real thoughts locked away.
But she'd noticed. The intelligence behind his supposed brain damage, the way he'd understood her perfectly while appearing to speak only nonsense.
"She's starting to suspect something. That's good and terrible at the same time."
The crow landed on the supply crate beside him, clicking softly. Adam looked at the bird and made a decision.
"You're from Kaz, aren't you?"
The crow tilted its head.
"One click for yes, two for no?"
The bird clicked once.
"I cannot believe I'm having a conversation with a crow using a binary code system."
"Is Alina in danger?"
One click.
"Immediate danger? Like, in the next few days?"
One click.
Adam's blood went cold. If Kaz's intelligence network was that good, if he knew about the Fold crossing...
"The crossing orders. They're coming soon."
One click.
"Tomorrow?"
Two clicks.
"The day after?"
One click.
"Two days. The timeline is accelerating."
Adam looked toward the Grisha quarters, where Ivan and Fedyor were still discussing the power failure. His [Nullify] ability was weak, barely noticeable, but it was growing stronger with each use.
[SKILL USAGE DETECTED]
[COMBAT APPLICATION: DISRUPTION]
[+10 EXP GAINED]
[EMOTIONAL INTENSITY: FEAR x1.3]
[BONUS EXP: +3]
[CURRENT EXP: 33/100]
[DISCOVERY: EMOTIONAL STATES MULTIPLY EXPERIENCE GAIN]
The system notification confirmed what he'd suspected. Strong emotions weren't just affecting his speech—they were amplifying his experience gains. Fear, embarrassment, focus—all of it was feeding back into his progression.
"The system wants me to feel things strongly. It's rewarding emotional intensity."
The crow clicked again, drawing his attention. It spread one wing, revealing a small scroll tied to its leg that he'd missed before.
Adam glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then carefully untied the message. This one was even shorter than the first:
Two days. Be ready. The light finds its home in darkness.
Trust the void. It may be the only truth.
- K
"Trust the void." Adam looked down at his hands, thinking about the anti-magic field that surrounded him. In a world where power meant survival, he was the absence of power. The negative space where magic went to die.
But maybe that was exactly what this world needed.
The crow took flight again, disappearing into the growing darkness. Adam tucked the second message away with the first and made his way back to his tent.
Tomorrow would bring another day of grinding experience and pretending to be brain-damaged. But the day after that...
The day after that, everything would change.
As he settled into his bedroll, Adam closed his eyes and tried to push away the vision of Alina's terrified face as darkness closed around them. Two days to get stronger. Two days to prepare for the moment when the Sun Summoner would awaken, and the real story would begin.
The system hummed quietly in the back of his mind, counting experience points and tracking relationship values with mechanical precision.
But somewhere deeper, in the part of him that was still human, Adam made a promise to himself: when the time came, he would be ready.
The void would protect the light, no matter what it cost him.
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