The clockwork bird had always been there. Among the other pigeons it stood out, with light clinks of metal instead of the fluttering of wings, and soft whirring sounds instead of cooing. It hopped around, its geared insides running and whirring and clicking for the world to see, pecking at bread it couldn't eat and flying from humans though it couldn't be harmed.

Nobody really knew where it came from. Perhaps from the far-away dwarven mines of Moria, or maybe a runaway invention from the rumored workshop of Daedalus far to the east. Or perhaps it came from closer to home, from the clockmaker's shop, tucked away in a tiny alleyway.

It sat on the roof now, the constant clicking of its workings a silent comfort to the children waking up from slumber, and the servants hurrying out to market-day with baskets to fill with bread and fruit.

The clockwork bird's eye sputtered with a blinking yellow light, steadying into a dim glow. Its joints creaked, with the hint of something bigger and more dangerous than a bird. With the well-oiled precision of a clockwork machine, the bird stretched its neck to survey the town.

This would do, very nicely. 

In a whirlwind of rage, I storm down the street, even burning the wagons that dare come in my fiery, burnt path. I see an elf, but don't care. With a shriek of rage, I begin running, and accidently bump into the elf. 

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" I say, seeing I've knocked down some of her things. I bend down and help her pick them up before continuing, a fiery ball of rage.  

I walk into the Tavern. Raven, the sign says. I wonder why I’m here. I walk up to the bartender and realize, with a jump, that he’s a clockwork robot! I ask for a drink and then find a tall table where two men are gambling, during cards. I realize that the first man has rigged the deck so that it’s only 4s of spades. I’m about to tell someone, but then I realize my luck. 

I sit down at the table and ask to play. The first man says “Sure,”. I know he thinks he’ll say his number first. I pick up the deck to shuffle, but I slip my own card (queen of diamonds) on the top. The first man bets 200 denri that it will be the four of spades. I bet 500 that it will be the queen of diamonds. The second man bets 100 that it will be the 8 of hearts. I flip, and I’m rich. 

I listen to the whirs of gears, which make perfect sense to me. A small shelf in the middle of all the clutter sits empty, coated with dust. I still remember what was supposed to go there, a little clockwork bird. I had made the mistake of giving it wings, and it had flewn away from my workshop. I've kept an eye out ever since but have never found it. 

You are talking with thin air. Or at least this is what everyone else believes. But you know that this isn't true. Before you is one of the Kyraa many ghosts. Many had joined into the already huge group of them after a recent epidemic.

You are talking with a young women who was eight months pregnant with her fourth child when she died. Now not only does she need to face the isolation of death, but she faces the pain of late pregnancy. You are told her worries about the future of her children.

As you nodd and cry with her, people look at you with a weird look on their face. But you ignore them, as you know that they could never understand what you're hearing. None of them had ever been in Death and lived to tell the tale. No, this was a special thing that only you have been through.

This little trip had gained you much, and lost you much. You could see the ghosts of Kyraa, and you can understand what they are facing. But nobody else could see what you where, giving you the title of a crazy woman by the neighbors.

Your husband became angry, as he thought you where trying to ruin the families reputation on purpose. He didn't believe you when you had told him about your experience in Death, and the fact you can now see ghosts. He believed you to be insane, and took you to an asulum in Kyraa.

You couldn't care less. Marrying him wasn't your choice, an even though he was never particularly bad, you could never bring yourself to love him. The only thing that saddend you was the loss of contact with the children that you had raised. Your children. But now all of that is in the past, and you sit on the corner of Lilith street every day, talking with the ghosts from a nearby cemetery. 

I hummed to myself as I skipped down the street. Soon I reached the market, and glanced around for a target. I spotted a vendor who was busy with a woman yelling at him. Still humming, I ambled towards him. He smiled at me absentmindedly, and I grinned up at him winningly. He turned his attention back to the lady. I grabbed a honey cake from the table. The vendor didn't even notice. I looked around furtively, but no one seemed to have seen me. Oh, wait - a guard standing in the corner frowned and started towards me. I darted out of the market, and he seemed to decide it wasn't worth the trouble. I came to an alleyway filled with crates, and clambered up the pile to enjoy my prize, chuckling to myself.

You enter the tavern, but nobody looks your way. Good, you don't want to draw too much attention here, a place where religion states women aren't allowed to drink. If they do, people say that they will go crazy. But that isn't a worry for you, as you're already crazy, so you are here to test out this theory.

People only look your way when you sit down next to a elven maiden and ask for a drink. This is out lawed. You are breaking every rule and princable you where ever told. But these men are rowdy, and after hesitating, give you a beer.

They soon learn you can be trusted. Unknown to them, this isn't your first time drinking. Back in the villadge, you would go into your husbands liquor cabinet when things got too hard. You know that this isn't a good escape, but it lets people believe that the ghosts it just you being drunk. It lets you seperate your soul from reality for awhile, untill it all bounds back in the morning and you have a ranging headache. 

You slowly become a regular, and the men see you as one of them. After all you wear the same clothes as them, spit as they do, and have the same amount of missing teeth. They became your friends, and you became theirs.

The maiden speaks whith you at times, though rarely. Even to her, an elf, it is odd to see a woman acting this way. But you know that is just because girls have been hiding their true spirit inside a hole in their hearts. Every girl could spit if she wanted to. They just needed to try. 

The sun had risen, and early morning light shone weakly, breaking through the feathery grey clouds. With the click of metal against stone, the clockwork bird hopped across the town square, its bronze neck swinging back and forth to peck at breadcrumbs scattered across the square.

Footsteps pattered around it, deftly avoiding the pigeons underfoot. A sudden flurry of feathers disturbed the bird, as a tussle between the nearby pigeons over a dropped loaf of bread began.

The high-pitched sound of screeching rang in the square, as an unfortunate bird scraped its claw across the brass feathers of the bird.

With an unholy clanking and the creaking of joints, slowly, the clockwork bird unfolded itself as its eyes blinked red. Joints popped out, and an unbelievable amount of material shot out of the folded wings, as gears ran and metal clicked.

Passerbys stopped, dead in their tracks, entranced and horrified by the metal and debacle unfolding before them. Housewives and servants backed away, pigeons scattering, from fear of getting crushed underfoot. Fear, fear, terror, in all their beady little eyes.

A true sight, a true spectacle it was, as an enormous, leviathan, copper-plated metal-geared monster unfolded itself in the town square.

You sense that people are afraid. It is the leviathan, a giant metanical whale, after all. It could squish you without even thinking, but for some reason you aren't afraid. Maybe you drank too much. Maybe people are right and you are going crazy.

You slap yourself awake from the daydream like state you where in. A leviathan is standing in front of you. Run. That is your first instinct after you assess your situation. So that is what you do. You get your old creaky legs to run. It isn't apparent to where you are running, you just know you are.