I have blades that cannot slice. I'm a forest but for mice

I am a word of power, with strong surges and fluid movements. I'm also the present day, for those up to date. But please, don't confuse me for my fruity cousin

I am a messenger to some, whose final day has come. I was a seer to others, to which death was no bother. A black storm on the sky, I observe life with my all-seeing eye. Many think I mean no good, by humanity, I am grossly misunderstood.

Course, medium, and fine; marking the passage of time; I wear, polish, and grind.

I'm a name of a band a wolf dies by my hand a muddy horse, a fast snail who am I in this fanciful tale?