They separated at the docks to cover more ground. Morgan questioned nearby shop owners, and Raf sought out other vagrants in the area. They met up around dinnertime with Morgan empty-handed. Most of the shop owners knew Pika, but few knew anything about him.
She was sitting at their rendezvous spot when she spotted them, Raf and three others, who appeared to be young vagrants.
Raf introduced everyone first, "Morgan, this is Faerie, Alex, and Deon. They were friends of Pika's."
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Morgan said. "I wish it was under different circumstances." None of them said anything. They looked nervous.
"They told me what happened to Pika," Raf said. "I offered them dinner to come and tell you what they told me. It's... it's a hell of a story."
The smallest one of the bunch did most of the talking at first. Alex seemed to be the leader of their group of street urchins. He and Faerie were born on another island and ran away from their families to be themselves together.
Deon came from Exile. His parents died in a fire, but he was big and strong, so he found work on a cargo vessel. When the ship docked at Crescent, Deon fell in love with the island, abandoned his post, and swore he'd never leave. That was two years ago.
Over seared fish with coconut rice, the trio explained that Pika was more of an acquaintance than a friend. He was older and born in Garden. He never told them why he left, and he avoided public places. Mostly ate and prepared fish he'd caught and slept outside, far from anyone. They figured he was just paranoid. At least, that's what they thought before the Raven got him.
"Wait, wait, what? A Raven?" Morgan interrupted. Raf gave her a meaningful look.
"Not a raven. The Raven. It's a monster that eats vagrants on the island," Alex told her furiously. "It's been going on for years. No one cares because the Raven only takes people who aren't important. People like us. Every few months, another one goes missing. We told the Brother investigating Pika's death, but he didn't believe us."
Morgan and Raf looked at each other, and a silent conversation passed between them. The trio watched anxiously, and it was the girl who spoke, Faerie, "but you do believe us, don't you?"
Morgan considered her thoughtfully and said, "We have reason to believe your story, but it's not much to go on. What can you tell us about this Raven? How do you know it took your friend?"
"Deon saw it," she said, and everyone turned to look at Deon. He had been the quietest of the trio. A giant young man, but when he spoke, it was in a gentle timbre, almost a whisper.
"I heard about the Raven back in Exile, but I didn't believe. They told me a giant bird lived in the Farthest Wood that ate wanderers. Before I left Exile, a rumor went round that they caught the Raven, but without a body to prove it, my parents figured it was a myth. That was four years ago. I didn't hear of it again until I came to live here. When they told me about a giant black bird that eats people, I thought it was a joke, a story from the mainland to scare kids. Until I saw it take Pika." Morgan and Raf leaned in with rapt attention. No one interrupted him.
"It was at night. I was getting up to pee when I saw Pika from across the docks. He was tying his boat to a tree. That was normal. Pika liked to fish at night. I saw something dash across the beach. It was like a shadow, too dark to make out any details, and it moved so fast. It snuck up behind Pika, and that's when I saw it clear in the moonlight. It was bigger than Pika, with a giant beak and shiny black eyes. It had to be the Raven. I yelled at Pika to run, but it was too late. The second I screamed, the Raven burst into thick, black smoke. I couldn't see anything, but I heard Pika scream, and then nothing. Alex and Fairy came, and when the smoke cleared, we looked for him, but he was gone."
"When did this happen?" Morgan asked.
"More than a moon ago," Deon answered. Raf and Morgan both reacted. The body washed ashore only days ago. If what Deon said was true, the Raven kept Pika alive for over a moon, feeding off him. But why would a giant bird drink blood? And burst into smoke? Morgan had never heard of such a thing. They needed to bring this information to Captain Reynard, but he was gone.
"Thank you for your help," Raf told the trio. "We're in your debt. My sister and I need to deliberate. We will find this thing, whatever it is, and stop it. I give you my word. Until next time, good night."
The three were grateful for the meal. As the siblings mounted their horses, Faerie ran up to Morgan.
"You do believe us, don't you? You'll find the thing and stop it?" Her eyes were shining with hope and fear. Morgan couldn't be sure of anything. Their story made no sense.
"I believe you," she said. Morgan wasn't honestly sure what she believed but said it convincingly. The weight that lifted off Faerie's face made the lie worth it. Morgan reached up and pulled one of her hairpins out. It was a simple but pretty piece, silver, studded with jade. She gave it to Fairy and offered her a promise; "We will find this thing, whatever it is. We will kill it."
Fairy burst into tears of relief and joy, falling to the ground. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she kept repeating. Alex and Deon stepped forward to pull Fairy up. They all thanked the royal siblings, and together, they parted.
Morgan needed a moment to collect herself as they rode toward Castle Moondial. It had been a particularly strange and exhausting day. The enigmatic and probably dangerous Brother Timothy sent them on a fae witch hunt. If Shaman Kroeser's cthulian victim is legitimate, Adam might summon the specter of another genocide. And to top it off, an actual fae serial killer might indeed be living on the island, preying on their people, unnoticed for years. How many had died unspeakable deaths in anonymity? Morgan shook her head to clear the thought. Brother Timothy needed to be informed. Deon's account confirmed his suspicion, but the alleged cthulian victim might interest him more. If the oceanfolk move against mankind, Adam would respond with devastating force. Morgan and Raf rode in silence to their cliff-side castle home.
The sun was nearly hidden under the horizon by the time Morgan and Raf stabled their horses at Moondial. The sky was a mess of reds and oranges, blues and purples, with increasingly darker hues.
A signal was sounding in the low tower. All castle inhabitants were being called to the great hall for an announcement. Castle conferences were usually boring affairs and scheduled once a month on the new moon. It was far too soon to be having another conference.
With their day already long and trying, the signal amplified all the fears and anxieties Morgan and especially Raf had been carrying since they woke up. As they ran to the great hall, they saw scared, tearful castle staff glancing at the siblings with dread and pity.
Something was very, very wrong. Morgan could feel a rising panic, looked around and saw more panicked faces. Raf looked terrified. She stopped and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her.
"You're losing your calm, and it's scaring everyone," she whispered to him, holding both his arms.
"That's because I'm scared," he said defiantly. "You and I both know what happened. Timothy happened. He wanted us out of the castle, and now there's a sudden conference."
"I'm scared, too," she said. "But that's not a luxury you can afford. It's not fair, but what you feel is amplified to everyone around you. When you're scared, you scare everyone else. You've got to be vigilant. You cannot fall into fear or despair. We need you to inspire us, especially in the frightful times."
Raf didn't react immediately, only a few blinks. Finally, he nodded and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths, and Morgan felt more at peace- though not entirely.
"That was good. That worked. What were you thinking?" she asked.
"I kept thinking, 'we'll get through this.' You and me. We'll get through this." He smiled sadly. They squeezed each other's hands and then ran for the great hall. By the time they arrived, a crowd had formed. Milo Meiori was sitting in their father's chair.
"Milo," Raf greeted, his voice betraying uncertainty. "Where is my father?"
Milo Meiori stood, walked over to Raf, and looked him in the eyes. When he spoke, pain broke the lines of his face. "Your father is in a coma. He killed one of the Holy Father's faithful, and Godfather Adam struck him down for the transgression."
Morgan was stunned to numbness. Milo kept talking, but she couldn't hear most of it. Words rang in her mind like the bells ringing in the courtyard. She wanted to sit down but couldn't. It wasn't safe to mourn publicly. They had to hold it together.
Milo continued, "Since your father was charged with treason, I've stepped in as acting steward until the Holy Father affirms or negates the current line of succession."
Rafael found his voice. "What? No. I am acting steward in the event my father is incapacitated. Not you. We will hold an investigation and get to the truth of this!"
Meiori held his hands up in a show of peace. "I'm not your enemy. Do whatever you want, but ask yourself, do you want to steward the island right now," at this, Meiori hesitated. He looked tormented. "Or would you rather be... with your father?"
The siblings exchanged glances, a silent conversation. Everything felt so wrong.
"Fine," Raf said, finally. "You can manage things until Adam decides, but not alone. I will help you steward. You're from Lona. I know Crescent. The people won't respect you alone."
Meiori hesitated and then nodded. "We can talk about that." Something about the way he said it bothered Morgan. A sad and uncomfortable silence followed.
"Where is our father?" she asked plainly. Meiori appeared at once relieved and grief-stricken.
"He's been moved to his bedroom in the high tower. I don't know if he'll wake up. I was in the room when he killed Timothy. If Arthur does wake up, I have to arrest him for murder. Either way, it might be best to… say your goodbyes."
That was ominous, Morgan thought. Or was it Raf? Her hand instinctively reached for her sword, and she knew without looking, Raf was doing the same thing. She looked around. No one was armed except for the guards, eight of them stationed around the great hall. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but Morgan inspected each guard carefully.
"To-to your father, I mean," Meiori stammered. "I am so sorry. Please, say goodbye to your father."
"This conversation will be continued," Raf said. "Soon." He turned and left the great hall. Morgan followed. As they passed the guards, she watched them with a newfound suspicion and paranoia. People she'd known for years. How sudden she was to fear betrayal.
But her fears bore no fruit. They reached the high tower only assaulted by pitying glances and frightened cries. People looked terrified, like the end was near. It wasn't Raf this time; he looked determined, his breaths slow and deep. The collective terror of Adam's wrath was too strong to be overcome by breathing exercises. Two guards were stationed outside Steward Avalyn's door, Limu and Sifu, men they knew and trained alongside. They opened the door, and the siblings walked through.
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Their father's bedroom was rustic and spacious, with a balcony overlooking the island and ocean. They closed the door behind them and were alone, the three of them. Arthur was lying in bed. Morgan and Raf hurried to his side and found him sweating. Morgan touched his forehead but found no fever. Arthur twitched. He grimaced, but he did not wake.
"He's in pain," Raf observed. "This isn't a coma. Something happened to him."
"Milo said, 'Adam struck him down.' Whatever that means."
"I suppose I'll ask him when I talk to him next. What the hell is he doing?"
"It looks like a hostile takeover. He said Dad killed Timothy and then was incapacitated. No evidence. Only Milo's testimony backs it up."
"You don't think Dad killed Timothy?" Raf asked her. She shrugged.
"I wouldn't put it past him, but I think we have more pressing concerns. Milo said Timothy charged Dad with treason. That means Adam probably knows. And this," she pointed at their father, "is probably a preview of what's coming for us if we don't get out of here fast."
"Wait, what. You want to leave him? Leave Crescent to Milo Meiori, and run?" Raf looked so young and bewildered. Morgan put her hands on his face.
"I don't know what's happened to Dad, but I can't help him, and we're in danger. We need. To go. Now. We'll make for the crystal caverns. We'll catch up with Rowan and Lyn, and we'll figure it out. If we're here when Adam arrives, he'll kill us both."
"What do you think he'll do if we're not here when he arrives?" The question silenced her. Raf turned to look at his father. "You should go. Adam probably won't sink the island if it's you that gets away. I need to stay and face the music."
She was speechless. Every rational bone in her body wanted to run as fast as she could, but she kept wondering what Adam would do to her brother if she ran. She could not imagine leaving Raf to face Adam alone. After a moment of silence, she stepped by his side and squeezed his hand.
"I go where you go," she said to him. He choked up and cleared his throat, trying to look resolute, very nearly succeeding.
Suddenly Arthur began to convulse and grunt and finally sigh. His eyes opened. He slowly sat up in bed.
"Are you okay?" Morgan asked, sitting on the bed. "What happened?"
Arthur ignored her and ran his hands along his body as if discovering it for the first time. A slow smile crept across his face. Arthur looked up at Raf. There was something sinister behind his smile. Arthur turned from his children and stood up on the other side of the bed. He walked naked to the balcony. Raf and Morgan exchanged confused glances. Raf followed his father nervously. So did Morgan.
"Dad? What's wrong? What happened with Timothy?" Raf grabbed his father by the shoulders, holding Arthur and forcing him to look at Raf. Morgan hung back, observing.
Arthur's smile grew more sinister. Suddenly, he grabbed Raf by the throat and forced him to the balcony's edge. Raf struggled but was too stunned and confused to offer much resistance, and Arthur had his hand on Rafael's sword. Morgan rushed toward them too late. Arthur tossed Raf with ease far over the balcony to certain death.
Morgan froze mid-stride, watching helplessly as her brother disappeared behind the ledge, reaching in vain for her. She couldn't move. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of her. Even inhaling felt strange and unnatural. Her sword arm hung limply at her side, but across from her, grinning, holding Rafael's sword, was Arthur Avalyn.
Arthur signed and stretched his neck and shoulders. "Ahh," he said slowly, testing his voice. "Is that all it takes to break you? Do you give up? Shall I kill you now, too?" He taunted her.
"You're not my father. What are you? What do you want?" She demanded, raising her sword. Arthur seemed to like that.
"My name is Azazel. I'm one of the Fallen."
He paused for dramatic effect.
Morgan's heart dropped in her chest, and she nearly dropped her sword. Adam had summoned a demon from hell to possess her father and kill her family, and it was standing in front of her, wearing her father's body like an outfit.
"What do you want?" she repeated in a whisper. Arthur kept smiling.
"I thought I wanted to spend eternity with my fellows, but you know what? Eternity will last. I like it here, and I think I'll stick around." While he was speaking, Morgan was backing away toward the door.
"Fine," she said, buying time. "You wanna stay on Eden, I can't stop you. Any more than I could have stopped my father from his little rebellion. He made his decisions, and here we are. You've decided to stay. Fine. Now, how about you decide to let me go, huh? You do your thing, and I'll just get out of your way."
Arthur chucked. "There's no sense bargaining. There's nothing you can give me that I can't simply take for myself."
Morgan reached the door and tried to run, but the door wouldn't open. She was trapped.
"Oh no," Arthur taunted her. "There's no escaping it."
She turned around and brandished her sword. "I can fight it."
"Good," Azazel said in Arthur's gleeful voice. He raised Rafael's sword.
Arthur lunged, but Morgan parried it easily and knocked Arthur off balance. "It looks like you haven't mastered my father's body yet," she observed aloud. Arthur was taller than Timothy and more muscular. Their different bodies required different weight distribution and force behind movements. Azazel was still learning how to ride Arthur's body. That gave Morgan one small advantage.
As they both came to the same realization, Arthur's smile became manic and frightful. He attacked Morgan ferociously, repeatedly. Azazel's advantage was unholy brute strength, and it took everything Morgan had to deflect his blows. She tried to slide his sword away when she could, but every swing shook her body and battered her arms and shoulders. Arthur was backing Morgan into a corner. She saw an opening as he swung; she could strike and stab her father in the heart; instead, she rolled toward the balcony, barely regaining her footing in time to deflect another swing.
Arthur was unrelenting. She could evade his attacks for only so long. With the doors locked and nowhere to go, falling back to the balcony, she saw her choices clearly: she could die one way, or another, or another, but no matter what she picked, this was the end. She made her choice.
Arthur made one final swing, but it didn't matter. Morgan let her sword catch the blow, dropped it, turned from Arthur, and ran to the edge of the balcony. Jumping off the railing, she closed her eyes and whispered, "I go where you go."
Morgan felt the wind on her face, but she didn't fall. Instead, she lurched toward the balcony again. Opening her eyes, she realized Azazel was holding her suspended in the air with magic. He slammed her to the ground so forcefully it knocked the breath out of her and slammed her head against the stone. She looked up through stars and fog to see her father's face.
"That's very sweet," he taunted her. "But if you won't play along, I'll end this game myself." Morgan braced herself for a killing blow that didn't come. Instead, Azazel lifted the sword Morgan dropped, pointed it at her father's chest, and Morgan watched in horror as Arthur stabbed himself in the heart. As the light faded from Arthur's eyes, a shadow appeared from behind his face. Arthur's body fell to the ground, but the shadow figure stayed upright, looking down at Morgan. She screamed of panic and mourning and desperation and crawled back from it, but the shadow dove into Morgan's chest.
At first, everything was pain. Searing, blinding, white-hot pain, tearing her soul apart. It could have been seconds, hours, or days. Time had no meaning. Only pain.
Then it stopped, and she heard a voice; in a menacing growl, it said, "Submit to me your body and soul, and I will ease your suffering."
She didn't know where she was. She couldn't see, couldn't move, and couldn't scream. Terror engulfed her, but she couldn't give in. "No!"
The voice responded, "Let's try that again."
The pain returned. It cleared her mind of any thought but endless pain. She felt herself be ripped apart, torn to shreds, over and over and over again. Then it stopped again. The voice repeated, "Submit to me your body and soul, and I will ease your suffering."
She could barely think. Her thoughts were heavy, slow, and consumed by fear. She would give anything to not feel the pain again, and she nearly gave everything.
But Morgan Avalyn remembered herself. She remembered her training. Rowan had prepared her for mental attacks.
Morgan imagined herself in a block of ice. Water is sacred magic, Rowan taught her. So long as Morgan focused her mind on the ice, the creature couldn't break through. At least, that's how it's supposed to work.
She could sense it outside the ice walls, confused, furious, and amused. It pounded and scratched at her mental walls. It still hurt, but the pain was bearable. But she could see it, shapeless, black thing that it was, but had no idea what it was. Finally, it stopped attacking the walls, paused for a moment, and then took the appearance of a beautiful young woman. Luxurious red curls cascaded down her bare shoulders and breasts. She wore a silken red dress that covered almost nothing.
"I'm impressed," the woman said in a velvety voice. "You're the first human I've met to mount a decent defense. Your father tried, but he was weak and distracted. I got inside, and he gave me everything. It was over in a matter of minutes."
Azazel lifted a sharp green fingernail and delicately scratched on the ice, testing for weakness. But Morgan's life and soul depended on her ability to focus, so she focused down to the molecular level, concentrating on the interlocking geometric shapes.
"Eventually, your walls will crack, too. And when I get in, I'll tear your soul apart slowly. There will be nothing left of you when I ask again. Your mind will be shattered. Unless you submit now."
"You'll tear me apart no matter what I do," Morgan answered.
"You've got it all wrong, baby. You're going to marry Steward Meiori. And together, you'll rule Vulpex. All five islands- Well, four islands. I'll make you a deal: submit your body to me, and I will leave your soul intact when I choose another host. Continue to resist, and you'll end up like your father."
The memory of him being impaled struck her, and she almost broke down. Azazel sensed an opening and changed shape. No longer did it resemble a beautiful, buxom red-head, but instead the still corpse of her father, sword through his chest. His face didn't move. His eyes stared out into nothing, but his lips spoke in her father's voice.
"He'll eat your soul if you don't give in," her father's body said.
Morgan cried out. She tried to close her eyes, but it was all in her mind. Azazel took this moment of weakness and lashed out at the ice, abandoning her father's form and returning to its shapeless, black miasma of hatefulness. Claws dug into her walls, and she felt each swipe like a dull ache or a painful memory. Her barrier almost broke down, but fear of what it would do to her helped Morgan focus. Her life and soul depended on it.
Finally, Azazel stopped its assault and returned to its beautiful redhead appearance, looking irritated.
"You really should rethink this because I have news for you; you're not the only eligible Avalyn girl. Adam wants you alive and married to Meiori, but if you're going to be a little bitch about it, I can just possess Lyn and make her do it. How does that sound? You want your eight-year-old sister to marry a man in his late fifties? I'm sure Meiori won't mind."
"You're lying! Milo would never do that," Morgan shouted.
"Who do you think told Adam about your father's plot?"
Morgan was stunned. Azazel flashed a wicked grin. "Of course. When Meiori heard that Rafael was being considered for the Vulpen stewardship, he accused your father of heresy. Adam sent me to find proof, and your father, idiot that he was, provided it. Now both he and Rafael are dead. Meiori will be Steward of Vulpex, and you will be his trophy wife. Adam rewards loyalty… and severely punishes treason. You should be grateful to be alive at all."
Morgan couldn't respond. She was overwhelmed, with nothing to do about it but focus on her barriers, the only thing keeping the monster out. It seemed to relish her despair.
"That's right. Your friend betrayed you. Your father is dead. Brother, dead. And if I can't make you useful, I'll possess someone else, kill you, and see if Lyn is a little more pliable."
Morgan wished that she could cry. Trapped in her mind, she couldn't feel the catharsis of fear and pain that tears bring. She keened and concentrated ever more, resisting.
"Lyn is safe. You'll never find her," she said, and then repeated several times like a mantra. "Lyn is safe. You'll never find her."
"Wrong again, my dear. I know exactly where Lyn and Rowan are. Yes, I know all about Rowan. Like I said, your father gave me everything. Adam already sent a missionary to collect them. Rowan will be killed, but I could be convinced to let your sister go. After all, what's one deaf girl going to do without a family?"
Panic erupted in Morgan. Rowan and Lyn were in danger. With her father and brother dead, no one would save them.
Azazel sensed her dread and smiled. "Come now. I'm a reasonable man. Surely, you and I can come to a fair understanding. One where your sister survives."
Morgan wanted to give up. She had lost so much already. But something shifted. Morgan felt a familiar presence. She felt Rowan's mind.
There was a moment of chaos and violence as Azazel sensed the new mind present. It attacked Rowan immediately. Morgan felt Rowan's pain and surprise, and then obsidian stone walls surrounded her in defense. Rowan and Morgan couldn't communicate with each other while they both had barriers up, but Azazel could speak to both.
So worried and exhausted was Morgan that she struggled to maintain focus on the endless geometric patterns forming her ice defense. Azazel, meanwhile, was silent. Morgan watched it in shadows, circling Rowan's reflective black barrier.
Rowan's mental defenses were more sophisticated than Morgan's. Morgan's ice defense was imperfect, rigid, uneven, and inflexible. She could neither hear nor see them clearly because her ice distorted the image. So she waited. Her anxiety and fear continued to grow but also hope. Maybe together, they could overpower Azazel. But then Morgan realized that Rowan must be nearby to join their minds. That meant Azazel could possess Rowan's body. Rowan was in immediate danger, and that fact informed Morgan's decision.
"Azazel," she thought. "Let's negotiate."
Azazel returned in an instant in its buxom redhead outfit.
"I'm listening," it said with a sinister smile.
"Let Rowan go. Don't hurt them or Lyn or bring them to harm, and I'll give you my body."
The monster frowned. It appeared to be considering. Then it smiled again. "Deal."