A question, a quandary, a quagmire of confusion. I beckon with promise, then twist the illusion. I speak without speaking, I'm seen yet unclear, You’ll chase me for ages - I won’t disappear. What am I, wrapped in riddle and doubt?

though you know me, i’m ordinary i am one deceptive berry not fused together, though we’re friends i’m large enough to fill your hand wars waged by titans in my thrall just pick me up to make a call

I hold ships steady, headlines ready, and keep your thoughts from drifting away. One sinks deep, one speaks the news, one keeps you grounded when you lose.

Find me at your core, Or through which an African or Indian beast would snore, Or in which your clothing to store, Or from which a mighty oak's branches can soar. If you add eight to me I sound awfully short. What am I ?

Where corvids come to to drink al'caw'hol.