Jessica gently laid the Raven down on the floor, ensuring he was in a comfortable position. His breathing had slowed to the steady rhythm of sleep, but his final words still rattled in her mind: “Prepare for war.”
“What did he mean?” she wondered, the ominous phrase echoing in her thoughts. Taking a moment to gather herself, she slumped back into the chair, letting her eyes wander around the room. It was clearly his bedroom, and living space. A grand bed stood beneath a massive stained-glass window depicting a raven, its intricate details glowing faintly in the candlelight. The bed’s wooden frame was gilded with gold, and its craftsmanship immediately caught Jessica’s attention.
She rose and ran her fingers along the headboard, noticing a small mark on the leftmost post. It was the signature of Samson, the town’s blacksmith. Samson was a good man, known for his generosity—donating tools to farmers and crafting necessities for the poor when needed. Jessica smiled faintly at the thought of him.
Her hand pressed into the tightly fitted sheets, surprised at how perfectly the bed was made. As she looked around the rest of the room, she realized everything was immaculate. The bookshelves looked freshly dusted, the kitchen area was spotless, and the plates and bowls were arranged neatly. Sitting down on the bed, Jessica felt the luxurious comfort of what only the wealthiest in the province could afford.
Her thoughts drifted to the concept of war. How would a conflict affect Raven’s Bay, a small town with outsized influence on the province? It seemed almost surreal. Yet, as she pondered, her body betrayed her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and despite her efforts to stay awake, she succumbed to sleep.
Jessica’s dreams were vivid—a collection of fleeting, disconnected images. She saw herself and her mother picking flowers together, her little sister laughing as they played pranks on sailors, and even an unsettling vision of herself and the Raven sitting on thrones, holding hands. The final dream was the strangest: a man in a distant tower, peering through a glass device aimed directly at the Raven’s Tower. The man turned his head and looked directly at Jessica and screamed.
She awoke with a start, rubbing her eyes as she took in the dimly lit room. Hours had passed, and now only a few candles illuminated the space. Across the room, the Raven sat at a desk, the flickering light casting shadows that accentuated his muscular frame. Despite his youth, his physical presence was striking.
Without looking up, he spoke calmly. “I hope you slept well, my dear. We still have much to discuss.” He turned to face her, setting down the pen he had been using. “I apologize for the earlier interruption, but it seems the ocean dwellers are approaching sooner than I anticipated.”
Jessica stretched, groaning as her fingers caught in her tangled hair. “What do you mean by ‘ocean dwellers’? Do you mean fish? Why would fish be coming here?” she asked, rubbing her eyes in confusion.
The Raven sighed. “There are secrets about my… art that very few know. One of those secrets is that the power behind it was stolen long ago.” He stood and walked toward her, his silhouette outlined against the faint candlelight. “And by that, I don’t mean something was stolen from us—I mean we stole something from them. Scrying is an ancient and powerful magic, but it was not gifted to us by the gods—back when gods still existed.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He sat down on the floor in front of her, his boyish face looking strangely vulnerable. Jessica struggled to reconcile the image of this childlike figure with the power and responsibility he wielded.
“Scrying magic,” she repeated, trying to shift her focus. “That’s the magic you use to make laws, right? I remember you mentioning it.”
“Yes,” he replied, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. “Scrying magic allows the Raven to see the future and guide this province, even in ways that defy the king. It has ensured that our leaders remain honest and loyal. But generations ago, the first Raven struck a truce with the ocean dwellers.”
Jessica interrupted, eager to clarify. “Who exactly are these ‘ocean dwellers’? And why haven’t I heard any rumors about them from the sailors?”
The Raven’s expression darkened. “They are the three Titans who rule the oceans. Their existence isn’t widely known because it isn’t taught, not even to sailors. The ocean dwellers are not our allies. My magic hides the ships that dock in Raven’s Bay, shielding us from their gaze. But I fear that protection is failing. The Titans may have found us.”
As he finished, a faint blue light appeared behind him, gradually taking the form of an elderly man. The ghostly figure approached, its presence commanding the room.
“The young Raven is correct,” the figure said in a gravelly voice. “We always knew they would find us. We just hoped it would take longer.” The apparition turned to Jessica and bowed. “I am the first Raven. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady.”
Jessica’s jaw dropped. The ghost’s glowing blue eyes seemed to absorb all other light, drawing her gaze into their depths.
The Raven scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I was going to mention the help we receive from our ancestors… I guess I forgot, what with the whole vision thing.” He averted his gaze sheepishly. “They offer advice a little more directly than the stories share.”
The Raven’s voice slowly drifted out of sound. Jessica, overwhelmed, collapsed back onto the bed. It was too much—her life had been completely upended in a single day.
----------------------------------------
The first rays of sunlight streamed through the stained glass window, casting vibrant patterns across the room. Jessica sat up, feeling groggy and more exhausted than before her nap. “I am getting really good at passing out. Not the development I hoped for.” She thought as she reprimanded herself. She glanced around, noticing that the Raven was nowhere to be seen. On the far side of the room, however, part of a bookshelf was ajar.
“A secret door?” she murmured. “What are you up to, Mr. Raven?”
Sliding off the bed, she tiptoed to the hidden doorway. Behind it was a staircase spiraling upward. To her surprise, the top of the tower had been a falsehood. With cautious steps, she ascended, relieved when no visions or voices emerged to haunt her this time.
At the top was another door, slightly ajar. It appeared to lead to the back of another bookcase. Beyond it was a strange room filled with glass panels and unfamiliar metal instruments. A voice echoed around her, disorienting in its direction.
“Ah, you’ve arrived earlier than we expected,” the Raven said, his tone calm but tinged with excitement. “Welcome to the scrying room.” He sat there, wearing torn, grease covered clothes, as he was tinkering with a piece of the large contraption. The ghastly form that introduced itself as the first Raven floating next to him examining the work.
The space was unlike anything Jessica had ever seen, and the overwhelming sight nearly made her faint for the third time that day. Forcing herself to not make a habit of fainting, she leanded against the door. “This is actually not the most surprising thing I have seen in the last 24 hours.” Jessica mumbled to herself. “You and I still have a lot to talk about.”