Page 8

The Fall of the Raven

Grace

I stir awake at first light, peeking my eyes open to the dark grey of the sky, lightly illuminating the room. I’m utterly exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I’m excited for today, but also worried. What if something goes wrong? What if I can’t heal again? The window leaves a bright glow on the wall from the brightening of the sky, beaming into our still-dim room. As the sun rises, stormy clouds turn to pink salmon fluffs. The grey of the sky turns into dust once the vibrant orange emerges, bringing blue skies and clouds of perfect white balls of cotton.

Evie snores lightly into my ear while she’s wrapped around me. She’s nuzzling into my neck and spoons me from behind, her long legs curling into my shorter limbs. Meanwhile, Fallon is face-to-face with me. He’s breathing his hot morning breath right into my eyes, drifting into my nostrils. It smells of old cheese; I scrunch my nose. His long, muscular arm is wrapped around me and Evie, holding us tight. I would move, but I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t like it. It kind of reminds me of when Dad died; Mom, Fallon, and I would sleep like this together until Fallon got older, and Mom said we needed to go back to our own rooms. It’s comforting, having the people you love so close. It eases my worries about the day as my tense muscles melt back into the straw mattress. Fallon and Evie believe in me. I can do this.

Fallon stirs first. He always rises early in the morning. He usually wakes up before daybreak to go out fishing. I’m honestly surprised he slept in so much today; he must have been exhausted from the ride. I stare, watching him gently wake up. He yawns, making his fuzzy, pale beard stretch. I observe the way it scrunches on his tan face right before he blows his hot cheese breath into my eyes, making me silently gag. Fallon licks his lips, his arm squeezing us tighter, before letting us go and moving down below, rearranging himself. I scrunch my face in disgust. He lets out a deep breath and opens his deep honey eyes groggily and sees me. His whole body startles as his eyes go wide in surprise.

“What in the blazes are you doing, Grace? Were you watching me sleep? Why do I have such a creepy sister?” Fallon jokes, his voice rough from sleep.

“Shut up, you’ll wake Evie,” I whisper with a smile on my face.

He peeks his head behind me and smiles warmly. His head starts to wonder down her body, following her luscious curves. “Nice.”

“You’re such a pervert.” I move my hand from below the blanket and smack his shoulder lightly.

Fallon chuckles. “Hey, careful, don’t move around too much down there.” He warns playfully.

My mouth drops, and I leap out of bed, throwing limbs off of me. “Nope, time for everyone to wake up and get out of bed.”

Fallon’s devious laugh bellows into the small space, while Evie startles awake, clearly confused on what just happened.

“Come on, Grace, don’t be a prude. Besides, it’s morning; it’s just how it is.” He brings his hands behind his back, stretching lazily.

“Gross, gross, gross, I don’t want to hear about my brothers … thing ,” I whine, disgusted.

Evie’s gaze starts to wander lower on my brother.

“Like what you see, grandma?” Fallon purrs to Evie, winking at her with a dazzling smile.

“Hmm. I can’t see the little guy. Too bad.” Evie shrugs and gets out of bed.

Fallon gapes at her. “Well—maybe you need glasses, grandma,” he sputters.

Evie and I look at each other and giggle as he huffs, getting out of bed.

“Are you excited for today?” she asks with a smile, walking over to me.

“Yeah, a little nervous though.” I look down at my hands, playing with my fingers distractedly.

She gives me a hug, wrapping her soft arms around me and pulling me in gently.

“You’re gonna do great, Gracie,” Evie whispers into my hair.

“Ok, ladies, let’s get ready to go. We’ll wash up first, we don’t want Mr. Weaver thinking we’re some dirty villagers trying to con him. Then, we can get some breakfast to go from downstairs. It’s a good hike to Halla, so we should get started.” Fallon discusses the day while getting dressed.

“Why can’t we ride?” I ask, confused.

“We’ll draw attention to ourselves. The part of Halla we’re going to doesn’t have a lot of money. It’s the road through the Easbul Plains. They’ll remember a couple people and a Fae riding horses down their paths.” He’s already washing his hands in the basin and splashing his face. “Come on, wash.”

I go over and wash the dirt off my hands and scrub my face. I look in the mirror and my hair is a mess. “Evie, do you have an extra hair ribbon?”

“Here, you can use mine.” She takes the black tie out of her hair and gently shakes her hair out. Luscious loose waves come free as they tumble in a beautiful black mess. She comes near and starts combing my hair with her hands, working through the knots. My head yanks back as she works out the tangles. I wince in pain but refuse to be a baby, like Fallon. She braids my long hair into a simple plait with her skilled fingers.

“You’re not fair. How do you look like blessed royalty after riding all day?” I glare at her, while she braids.

She chuckles lightly. “Grace, you always talk about my beauty, but have you even looked at yourself? You’re gorgeous. You were beautiful before, and now this?” She gestures to my hair and my face. “You look like a Goddess. So, what if you need to brush your hair after getting out of bed because you were squished between a princess and an ogre—”

“Hey!” Fallon interjects.

“I’m just saying, if you had braided your hair before riding and going to sleep like a smart Fae, your hair wouldn’t be making you look like a swamp witch.” Evie shrugs with a wry smile.

I smile begrudgingly. “You think I look like a Goddess?”

“Mene made you into her image, Grace. Your hair is the moon, and your eyes are the sea. It makes me wonder if healing is the only thing you’re capable of.” She looks at me in the mirror, but her thoughts are elsewhere. “Ok, all done.”

“Thanks, Evie, that feels so much better. I should’ve grabbed my brush from the pack before we came up last night,” I said, swinging my braided hair back and forth.

Evie comes over to the basin and washes her hands and face quickly. We put on our boots, and I pull up my dark hood. We continue out the door and immediately pause. There is cheerful chatter that echoes up the hall and greets you at the stairwell.

I look nervously to Fallon. “Why is the inn full?” I never asked. I didn’t think to ask. Why would an inn all the way out in Wrightsworth be completely full? We are out in the middle of the Colpei Forest.

He regards me with a serious expression I rarely see on my brother’s face. Concern is etched into his face as pale eyebrows furrow. “You know I have your back, whatever comes.”

I take a deep breath and nod.

Fallon leads the way, walking us down the stairs. We enter the room to find it packed and lively. Men are ordering pints of ales and large breakfasts. Tables are full of patrons bantering and some are even singing, sloshing their drinks and drenching the table. There is loud, raunchy laughter and sounds of silverware scratching on plates. The young boy wasn’t lying, this place is packed. “Why is it so busy in here?”

A server hears me on her way by and answers, “It’s some young lads passing through, on their way to Halla. They’re going to the training program at the castle; they’re gonna be Moon Guards for the King’s Priest.” The bustling woman picks up some empty plates from the tables to our right, adding to her rather large pile, and keeps going in a rush.

The sounds around me go silent as I feel my gut turn sour. The loud patrons are muffled, and there is a ringing in my ears. Fallon is looking at me. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him. My breathing quickens, and my heart is pounding into my throat. I think I’m going to vomit. We’re surrounded by guards for the King’s Priest. Any one of them would die to turn in a Gods-touched to the King’s Priest, they would be honored immediately.

Fallon grabs me with a strong grip and hauls me outside, just in time for me to retch into the bushes. He rubs my back gently, holding my braid out of the way. A couple walks by, stopping to stare at us. “Stay away from the breakfast,” he mutters to them with a grimace.

When I’m done emptying my stomach of bile, I straighten and look at my brother and best friend shakily. “We can’t do this.”

“What? Gracie, come on, don’t get scared on me now. We’re almost there,” Fallon whispers, borderline begging me.

“There is an inn full of guards to the King’s Priest. The inn we’re staying at!” I loudly whisper.

“ Potential guards. They aren’t even trained.” Fallon smiles his famous idiot grin. The one that makes me want to punch his stupid mouth.

I narrow my eyes and stare at him, dumbfounded. Maybe his pea-brain isn’t even a pea, maybe it’s something smaller.

“Hey, look, we always knew it would be a risk. I know it’s hard having it right in front of you, but it was always there. Nothing has changed,” Evie says calmly. “Let’s skip breakfast and go.” She starts walking without us, expecting us to follow.

Fallon and I look at each other before he shrugs and starts trailing after her.

“Seriously?” I mutter. They walk through the shadows of the trees, their branches swaying in the wind and making them dance. I refuse to follow them. I kick my feet for a moment, dragging my boots into the dusty beige dirt, creating harsh grooves in the ground.

This is ridiculous, this plan is going to get us all hung over the King’s Wall. That wall is always littered with corpses, it’s incredibly disgusting. For the really devious, he’ll pike your head above the corpses, keeping you there until you’re nothing but rot and raven food. We’ll be branded traitors, and Mom will be outcasted. I am not going to join the rotting corpses hung on that wall.

I glance up and no longer see Fallon or Evie. I shift nervously, hearing the cheers of future guards roaring from inside. This is stupid, it’s just another pea-brain plan by my brother. Of course he picks the inn full of priest guards. The King’s Priest would absolutely delight in finding me, probably more than the King. He is the one appointed over all the other priests. He is the personal priest for the King and the sole speaker to Mother Moon. I hear his temple is more extravagant than even the King’s castle.

I stare heavily into the trees, biting my lip.

A frustrated growl escapes my throat as I hurl my fists up into the air, punching the sky repeatedly. I stomp my feet excessively, screeching and throwing a fit, before exhausting myself. I sigh in defeat. My stupid ass brother and his grand plans. I punch my hand into my palm, pretending it’s Fallon’s face before I tire myself. I hear another roar from inside the inn, making me freeze like a deer.

My legs are running after them before I realize what I’m doing.

“Wait!” I yell after them. I sprint under the shade of the tall trees, running past the old oaks and stepping on their dropped acorns. I hear them crack under my boots and my feet scuffling along the gravel. Eventually, I meet them on the red dirt road. “Wait!” I catch up, my breath heavy as I pant.

“Took you long enough,” Fallon comments.

I glare at him, sticking out my tongue, but I stay silent.

The forest around us thins out, mostly from heavy logging of the area. Large stumps of former trees litter the land before transforming into farmland. The red dirt road travels far with long golden grasses on either side. A beige sea of wheat, weeds, and foxtails. Farms are fenced in with disintegrating wood, protecting what’s left of small, thatched houses and worn barns. Every so often, you can see a cow grazing behind a fence. Evie once said the creatures in Thelios are different than here in Calibria. She told me their cattle are small and fluffy with beige-colored hair. They carry three antlers, and the males have tusks for teeth. They have a lot of different creatures than us. It is said that Thelios was once a separate land, only crossable by ship through the terrors in the sea. Now, our lands are combined, but our people still live mostly separate. Fae are not keen on humans and vice versa. The only Fae I have ever seen are merchants coming to port to trade.

“These are the outskirts of Halla. They’re poorer than the center of the King’s city,” Fallon’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“I didn’t know you’ve been out here,” I replied.

“Dad took me once,” Fallon says quietly.

Dad . I was young when he died, but I still miss him dearly. He had a deep laugh that penetrated your soul, warming your heart. He liked to joke, like Fallon, and brought such love into the house. I think Fallon has been trying to fill his role ever since he died.

We’re all quiet as we walk. I listen closely to the rustle of the grasses and our scuffling boots on the dirt road. Crickets sound off in the tall wispy grass, their chirps an instrument in the song of the wind. I watch the sable dirt get kicked up by my brother, creating a cloud in the air and getting blown away gently by the wind.

The sun beams down on us, making my armpits sweat and my back sticky. I look up above me, shielding the sun from my face with my palm. I see a silhouette of a large bird against the bright blue sky, circling us. “How do you know what house it is?” I question Fallon, eyeing the bird.

“Anna’s dad said Mr. Weaver will put a ribbon on a post outside his house,” Fallon states and keeps walking.

And so, I, too, keep watching.

The bird looks black. Although, it could just look black because he is far away? Perhaps it is a she. She could be brown with black adorning feathers. She continues to circle us, her shadow crossing us every time she dips under the beam of the sun. I wonder what kind of bird she is. Maybe she is a hawk. Although, she looks more like a crow. She could very well be a raven. I can never remember how to tell them apart. I have heard crows are smart creatures. Don’t they use tools? I wonder what—

I grunt as I slam into my brother’s muscular wet back and fall straight onto my bony ass. “Infernal Blazes,” I moan and get up, dusting thick red dirt off me. I look at my hands to see them stained a bright cinnamon red. My mouth drops. I look to my ass and sigh, frustrated upon seeing the vibrant dirt staining my backside. “Thanks, Fallon. Now I’ll never get this dirt out of my pants,” I mutter.

Fallon doesn’t reply, but instead keeps staring ahead. I peer around his tall body to see a white ribbon tied to a weather-beaten fence post in front of a small, drab shack. The hovel is in shambles, windows are boarded, and the front porch has cracked floorboards. The thatch roof needs repair, and the land surrounding is overgrown with tall grasses and weeds. “Let me go in first,” Fallon says quietly.

“We should go together,” I say, clutching his arm.

“No.” His tone is firm with no room for argument. “Evie, watch her and protect her if anything happens. I will go up and check this out.”

Evie nods and comes to stand close to me. I watch nervously as he walks up the path carefully, stepping through the reaching grass, headed to the house. Fallon gets to the decrepit front porch, it’s creaking echoes into the wind. “Mr. Weaver?” his deep voice calls out.

A window board moves slightly, and a long crossbow with a notched arrow pokes through. “State your name and business boy,” a worn voice carries across the grass.

“It’s just me, Mr. Weaver, Fallon. I’m here with my sister. Mr. Allen sent us, remember? We sent a letter, it looks like you got it. The ribbon is up,” Fallon says calmly. It’s quiet for a long moment before the weapon slides back inside. The door opens a crack, and Fallon leans in, talking to him quietly. Finally, after a while, Fallon turns around and motions for us to come over.

We get to the front door, and Fallon stops us. “He doesn’t want us inside. He has a lot of pride. I don’t think he wants us to see the state of things,” he whispers to us. “Take it slow, Gracie. Mr. Weaver is nervous about us. I don’t think Anna’s dad told him a lot of specifics.”

Mr. Weaver staggers through the door, clutching the door frame for support. He’s using a wooden cane to walk, dragging his right leg behind him. His muscles are deteriorated and his face sunken in. I can see ribs poking through his shirt. The man’s clothes fit baggy on him, his shirt flowing in the breeze while brown pants are tied around his waist with a rope. He hasn’t been shaving, grey peppers a scruffy trailing beard while malnourishment has aged him greatly.

Mr. Weaver’s sunken eyes go between the three of us as we stare quietly. “I threw out my back working my land and then my leg went. Doctor said he couldn’t do anything for me,” he says gruffly. “What exactly do you think you can do that he couldn’t?”

A stench of rot seeps into my nostrils as I gulp past the knot in my throat. I am here, we’re doing this. I take a deep, shaky breath and let it loose. “It’s easier for me to show you than to tell you. Can you lie down?”

It’s his turn to study me as he looks me up and down. Mr. Weaver grunts his appraisal. “Jeremy sang your praises, said you saved his little girl. That you heal miracles. Is that true?”

I glance over at Fallon and Evie. They’re watching me intently, ready to catch me if I fall. I look back at Mr. Weaver, determination settling deep within my bones. “I can heal you.”

Mr. Weaver narrows his yellowed eyes at me for a long while. Finally, he grunts and starts to get on the ground.

“Let me help—” Fallon starts to come over, but Mr. Weaver cuts him off, swiping at him with his wooden cane .

“I can do it just fine! I’m not dead yet, boy.” He grunts again and gets to the ground, carefully, hobbling low. He crawls slowly at first before finally descending onto his stomach with wavering arms.

I get on my knees carefully beside him and place my hand gently on his bony back. His once-white shirt now soiled. “Ok, give me a moment.”

As I sit beside him, I start to think of memories. This time, I think of Pa.

The rain is pouring hard outside, the drops no longer distinguishable from each other. Daddy still isn’t home, and Mommy is pacing in the kitchen. Fal and I sit on Daddy’s shiny leather armchair, wrapped in a brown quilt.

“He should’ve been home by now.” She talks to herself, looking out of the window. “He would’ve been done fishing already.”

“Mommy, where’s Daddy? It’s night-night time,” I whine.

“He’ll be home soon, sweetheart.” She looks at me with a half-hearted smile.

Thunder booms above us, rattling the windows. The clinking turning into cracks as they spiderweb across the glass.

“Come on, Hal,” she whispers.

“Grace, scoot over, you’re hogging the whole chair.” Fal pushes me.

I hit his shoulder. “Mom says no pushing!”

“Mom! Grace hit me!” Fal yells.

I hit him again. “No telling!”

Mom’s not watching us, though, she just stares out of the window.

Thunder booms again, louder this time as the wall shivers under its roar. Fal and I stop fighting and huddle together, holding hands. The fire is almost out, burning as spent coals, but Mom hasn’t moved from the window. The thunder explodes just as the door bursts open, slamming loudly into the wall. A tall, dark figure stands in the doorway.

Fal and I scream in terror.

The figure steps in, throwing off his hood, and kicks the door shut.

Daddy.

Mommy runs and jumps on him, burying her face into his neck.

“Dad!” Fal and I say in unison. We get up and run over to him, jumping in giddiness.

“Look at my welcoming party. I should be late more often,” his deep voice booms.

Mom looks up with a scowl on her face, slapping him on the shoulder. “Never again. ”

“I’m sorry, hun, we had a tough time getting into port.” He leans in close, cupping her cheek. “You know I’ll always come back to you,” he purrs sincerely and kisses her gently.

“Ew.” I giggle.

“I’ll show you ew.” He puts Mom down and grabs me, throwing me in the air and capturing me again, giving me kisses all over my face. “Hey, I got you something.” Daddy smiles at me and sets me back onto the shining oak floorboards. He unzips his drenched jacket and takes out a dark teddy bear, adorned with a beautiful white bow tie. “For you, my Gracie Bear.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

A sharp burst of pain zings through my spine, interrupting my memory. It electrifies into my right leg, my muscles spasming and tingling down the whole length, making me cry out in pain. Every breath I take burns, my back burns , I cannot move. My leg is freezing, while simultaneously on fire. It’s numb, and it tingles in pain like I’m being stabbed with a million sewing needles. The muscles in my back are spasming, from my leg into my lower back and working their way up. They seize and constrict my nerves as they travel. I start to feel tired as the rest of my body gives away my health. My stomach cramps in unbearable pain, and my limbs feel heavy and dull like rubber. I’m incredibly weak, and I’m so thirsty, my mouth has never been so dry.

Mr. Weaver cries out and I feel something shift in his back underneath my hand. I watch in awe as his limbs fill out and regain their muscles. His leg corrects its shape, and his skin rejuvenates. Strawberry blonde hair grows fuller, regaining its lush shine while his breathing becomes easier. Hesitantly, he lifts himself up onto his knees. His deep brown eyes stare at his leg. They travel to his smooth hands and then his pale arms. He touches his stomach and face in disbelief, patting his body gently. Finally, they reach for his back. I watch his face change from wide-eyed wonder to furrowed horror.

His face shoots to mine as he narrows his dark eyes. “What did you do to me?”

“She healed you,” interjects Fallon, coming to my side protectively and helping me stand. His rough hands don’t let me go.

“How?” He stands, his gaze going to his once-injured leg, bewildered.

“Miracle,” Evie pipes in, coming to my other side defensively.

Mr. Weaver studies me again, but this time, he really looks at me. His fresh face scrunches in disgust. “What are you? ”

“Nothing,” I whisper, my voice small as I grip Fallon’s hand.

“That was no miracle,” he accuses, taking a menacing step forward.

Evie pushes herself in front of me, and Fallon stays by my side. He doesn’t let go of me as he stares down Mr. Weaver.

“She healed you, what does it matter?” Evie raises her voice. “Shouldn’t you be thankful?”

“That wasn’t natural. That was unholy,” whispers Mr. Weaver, without taking his intense eyes off me.

“If you go to the authorities, I’ll say you agreed to it. They’ll arrest you too,” Fallon reminds him sternly. “You’ll be on the wall with us.”

Mr. Weaver turns his disgusted gaze to Fallon. They lock eyes with each other and neither back down as we wait in silence. I hold my breath, the tense standoff making my heart race.

“Get off of my property,” he orders quietly.

Fallon turns quickly, not missing a beat as he picks me up in his arms and jogs me down the overgrown path. He lightly runs with me through the long grasses and back onto the red dirt road. Evie follows close behind us, keeping her eyes on Mr. Weaver as we go. I watch the house disappear behind us as we distance ourselves, a silent tear slipping down my cheek.