The Raven’s Messenger

In the hush of an autumn forest, where the trees stand tall like solemn sentinels, a cloaked figure reaches toward a raven descending from the mist. The woods are painted in fading golds and ember hues, their silence broken only by the beat of black wings. The raven, dark as twilight, carries more than its shadow—it carries whispers of secrets, perhaps a warning, perhaps a guide. The figure’s outstretched hand is not of command, but of trust, as though this fleeting moment is a pact between wanderer and wild. Here, in the twilight of the forest, every gesture feels like a spell, and every bird a messenger between worlds.