Prologue

Year: 1898

Bessie Chapman was kneeling in the middle of the corn field among the wilting crops. She was patiently listening to the voice speaking to her, staring intently in the direction of the voice even though nobody stood where the voice came from. It sounded as though the wind itself was talking. She had been listening every night for a week. Tonight, she would do the bidding the voice asked of her.

“But how will I know what to carve on this blade?” she asked the voice.

“I will guide your hands. I will carve the symbols with you. But first you must prepare the soil. The earth, fire, wind and water must all be prepared, as does the spirit of the child.”

Bessie looked down at the lone rib bone she had taken from the grave where her grandfather was buried.

“Do you promise to provide as you say you will? How can I know for certain?”

“You must not question my commands!” The voice became loud and angry. “You must put all of your belief and intention; else this will not come to be!”

“I understand. I will! I promise! Just please, spare me and my children.” Bessie pleaded.

“Now, go to the clearing. Place five points upon the ground, and recite the words I will whisper. You must make haste. Time is fading. Soon, the birth will be upon us. You must prepare the soil with the bone. Next we will carve the symbols. I will guide you.”

“How will I know when the child will be born?” Bessie asked.

“Trust my guidance.”

Bessie stood up, taking the rib bone in one hand and a chisel in the other. She ran in the dark towards the clearing, eager to do as she had been guided by the voice.

She never noticed the hundreds of crows sitting in the dying corn field, watching her run.