Death of Moon Chant

The previous night, a flock of birds had flown when the clock struck midnight. One bird cut across the night sky of foggy Avalon, flying under the stars. It was a raven—a white raven. It had been a moonless night, the moon hidden behind black clouds. The only light came from the stars speckled in the night sky.

The white raven flew in the fog, circling above the sleeping city, looking down on the music and torches of the city. When the clock struck, it flew toward the clock tower soundlessly, landing on the tip of one of the clocks hands.

At midnight, the clock’s hand pointed up at the sky like a blade. The white raven gazed about and finally flew past the window and gears, then entered the dark clock tower.