Sharp beaks tore at his flesh as the screeching of the crows filled his ears.

There was pain. Glorious pain.

He felt his blood spill and his bones crack.

Crows were supposed to be carrion feeders but these birds liked their prey live.

It was death and Roland knew it. He had been dreaming of it his entire life.

Death.

Death…

And with every ending a new beginning.

As he looked down upon his lifeless corpse he felt empowered. More alive than the living. A god among men.

“Party time.â€?