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The night was still, quiet, and utterly black. Light clouds clung to the moon, giving it an eerie yet shallow glow, and a light mist covered the chilled ground. A raven in a long-dead oak looked out at the night sky, it's bright yellow eyes delving into the surrounding area. He stood on the only dead tree in the entire area. A rather strange sight, but a sight non-the-less. The blackened tree's branches forked and cracked and twisted, scarring the face of the small forest amongst all the greener, healthy trees. His call sounded, piercing the silence deeply, as it echoed in an eerie moching. Once, twice, and then hostile silence. From further off, another call sounded; a reply. It was longer, and stressed to the point of breaking hysteria. The raven cocked its head to the left, while comprehension was reached, buried somewhere beneath the animalian instincts that took over so readily. As animal instinct threw the raven into the deadened-wind, a slight crack sounded beneath the blackened oak tree.

The opposite raven that had answered his brethren's warning leaned forward from his branch across the small clearing, as its yellow eyes raked the space that the sound issued from. Nothing moved. And nothing had appeared to be out of the ordinary, except for the fact that something, somewhere had made a noise. The raven watched the base of the dead oak tree infront of him for several more moments, before losing interest, and prepared instead for rest. He preened himself lightly, clicked his beak a few times, and settled, pulling his right wing up slightly, and pushing his head sideways into the soft void. Another crack punctuated the borrowed silence. The raven, a predator and prey, raised his head slightly, his eyes falling upon the base of that strange dead oak tree. The cracked, twisted shadow casted by the deadened tree shifted, but only in a small space. More sounds, coming from below, mingled with the crisp night air, as the black bird watched, unmoving.

The green grass twitched and parted as the red-brown soil quaked and seperated, creating a very small void, where there was a volumenous black. Fear-ridden, the raven called into the surrounding trees for help, surely another was out here, atleast to see this monstrosity, to confirm its oddity.

No replies followed a prolonged silence.

No sound followed, but instead, movement. A small flicker, and then nothing for several minutes. Inside the inch-by-inch void, a something reached out, grasping the edge of the ground, and gripped it tightly, muscles contracting, nails digging into the flesh of the earth. It was a hand, of some inhuman human. The raven watched in mock fascination which paralleled its mounting fear. Another hand joined the first, and though they came from the dirt, they were quite clean, and glowed an ivory light. The pair of hands reached further and further until forarms met elbows, and soon, a head followed them into the open air. A shudder of gasping breath was heard, as the thing slowly pulled itself to the surface. The creature then, with apparently a large amount of effort, pulled its upper abdomen from the ground, hands pushing the ground, while shoulders pulled the rest of the body from it's enslavement within the earth. Soon a stomach and hips were free, as the creature then sat to the side of it's rebirth, and pulled the last of it's body from the ground.

A tall slender figure met the raven's eyes, with long, waist-length bleach-blonde hair, glinting green eyes, and a self-knowing smirk. The she-creature wore small garments, a short skirt, and a skin-tight revealing shirt showed the innorexable curves that so many men had fallen victim to. Jericho had cheated her own death, then, and returned to haunt the popular city of New York. Her grimace turned then into a smirk, as she turned to the raven that had watched her. "I am no mere figment of your imagination, creature."

Her voice was cold, and un-relenting. It squeezed the air of it's sweetness, and changed the very essense of it, molding it into a chilling reminder. Jericho reached her right hand out, fingers uncurling to reveal her palm to the small black bird. "Come." The bird fluttered to her, without hesitation, trusting the green gaze that fell upon him. He knew not why he was so readily trusting, the thought scared the small bird, though all fear was quickly forgotten. Jericho stroked the raven's head with a finger and guided it to her left shoulder, where the raven settled, it's head erect, proud of his newly adopted perch. The demon walked, blonde hair gleaming, from her rising place, into the promising night, having returned from her deadened silence at last.