Chapter V. Morrigan — The Crown and the River

Morrigan is usually remembered as a black bird above a battlefield, a bad omen, a prophet of death or the appetite for war itself. In our tale, she does not bring the decision. She hears it before power dares to call it its own.

She appears at three moments in the war:

Before the banner: the order already exists within the crown, but has not yet been spoken. During the request for victory: power names the result and avoids asking its price. After the battle: history turns people into numbers, sides and material for someone else’s glory.

Her inhuman ethics consist of three acts:

Warn before the banner is raised. Name what feeds victory. Return the dead to themselves.

Morrigan is not a fate that forces people to fight. She hears the direction human power has already chosen. She does not justify either side or wash away the deeds of the dead. Her task is to prevent a decision from hiding behind an omen, a price behind victory, and a name inside a statistic.

The night is not over. There are no soldiers in the square. The banner has not been raised. The horn has not sounded. A ruler’s hand rests on the map, while the advisers discuss, more and more quietly, the convenient time to begin the campaign rather than the possibility of peace.

The decision has been made, although no one has yet spoken the word ‘war’.

Morrigan hears it in a held breath, a closing door, and the way the harvest begins to count for more than the people who will die. A black wing passes over the tower.

In the morning, people will see the bird and say that a bad sign brought the war. That is easier. A warning is a convenient thing to blame for the event it made visible.

The crow before the banner. The wing before the line. I did not call the battle. I heard the crown decide.

Morrigan does not see one inevitable future. She hears a present that has not yet dared to acknowledge itself as an order.

Power will dress the decision in gold, raise its symbols and say the gods showed the way. Then it will point to the crow as though the sky had signed the war into being.

But a sign is not an order. A witness is not a blade.

A sign is not a summons. A witness is no blade.

The ending returns responsibility to where it began:

They say the crow came first.

No.

The order was already in your mouth.

Author’s lyrics from the final package. Audio comparison follows upload.

Before the horn. Before the dawn.

One hand above the map.

No banner moved. No blade was drawn.

The room

had made its choice.

The candles leaned without a wind. The council lowered every voice.

No mouth had formed the word for war. But every silence made the choice.

You traced the border with one hand. You weighed the harvest, not the dead.

The crown had crossed the field by then, before the first command was said.

I heard it in the held-back breath. I heard it in the closing door.

The raven crossed the tower once.

The order had been born before.

The crow before the banner. The wing before the line.

I did not call the battle. I heard the crown decide.

No blood had touched the roadway. No drum had marked the time.

The order crossed the border while it still lived in your mind.

At dawn you dressed the choice in gold. You gave it drums and sacred names.

The square received a polished lie: the gods had set the road in flames.

They pointed upward at my wing, as if the sky had signed the war.

A warning makes a useful beast when power hides what came before.

You made my feather bear the sign. You made my shadow carry doom.

But every omen that you cursed was what you would not name as yours.

The crow before the banner. The wing before the line.

I did not call the battle. I heard the crown decide.

You blamed the sky for knowing what no tongue would yet define.

The order crossed the border while it still lived in your mind.

A sign is not a summons. A witness is no blade.

I do not plant the choice in kings. I hear the choice already made.

No prophecy compelled your hand. No feather moved your mouth.

You chose the war before the world had learned to call it out.

The crow before the banner. The wing before the line.

I did not call the battle. I heard the crown decide.

You say the crow came first. The truth had crossed the night.

The banner rose at morning. The order came before the light.

They say

the crow came first.

No.

The order

was already

in your mouth.

In plain words

People have already decided to begin a war, but they blame Morrigan’s crow for the disaster. She has only recognised where their own command is leading.

Countermyths

The Crow Before The Banner

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