Flight of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  A plan started to formulate in her mind. She would climb toward the windows and stay on the ledge that jutted out beneath the railing and get a feel for who all occupied this suite, their routine, and how she could best reach Lord Damien. If an opportunity presented itself, then she would take it. And if not . . .

  No. She set her jaw as she stared up at the windows. She would walk in his dreams tonight and look for his fears. Maybe she would get lucky and find what she needed. She only had one more day when the palace would be open to finish her mission. She couldn’t afford to fail.

  With that thought, Amara stole toward the palace. Ornate molding provided the perfect handholds. A minute later, she slipped over the railing and stood in the narrow area between window and railing, flattening herself against the wall.

  She was never one for patience. Selene had always been the patient one. It took everything inside of her to stand there and wait for her opportunity.

  Damien bid someone good night, and she heard a door close. A candle provided light within. He sighed, and she could hear him pacing. A trickle of sweat dripped down the side of her face. What was he doing? Was he waiting for her sister to come back?

  Did they share a room?

  Amara swore inside her head. Most lords and ladies had separate rooms, but there were the occasional couples who shared. This could complicate things.

  Finally, the light went out, and there was a soft thump, then silence. She hesitated. She could hardly see anything, but that also meant no one would see her either.

  Her heart beat faster as adrenaline filled her body.

  Amara glanced inside the room. The tiniest slip of light shone beneath the door, but not enough to illuminate the room. She could barely make out a body on the bed, on the side opposite the door.

  She leaned against the wall and figured out her course of action. In a few more minutes, she would move in, then find a place to make skin contact and enter his dreams.

  Time ticked by as everything that could go wrong flew through her mind. Selene could come in, or one of his guards. Or she wouldn’t have time to figure out his nightmares. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough.

  She could fail.

  She clenched her hand. Failure was not an option.

  Amara slipped into the room, silent as the night itself. She followed the wall along the right, then the next wall, until she reached the bed. Selene and her mother might be more powerful than she was, but she had worked hard and her power was at least sufficient enough for this task. And what she lacked in power she more than made up for in stubbornness, something her mother had noted during their dreamwalks together. She would hold on to her target until she had accomplished her mission. Tonight would be no different.

  She knelt beside the bed opposite of the main door. She could hear Lord Damien’s breathing, steady and soft. Perfect. The bit of light from one of the side doors let her see where his hand lay across the mattress. Slowly, carefully, she reached for his wrist and made contact.

  Nothing happened. It was like there was an invisible wall along the barrier of his dreamscape.

  Amara closed her eyes and focused on where her fingers met his wrist.

  Still nothing.

  Cold sweat poured across her body. Dart’an! What did this mean? Mother had spoken of powerful dreamscapes that were difficult to enter. Was his one of those?

  Her chest tightened, and she pressed her lips together. No! I can’t fail! I won’t fail. For Opheliana’s sake.

  Amara drew upon every ounce of her power inside her and pressed against his mind. Harder. Harder.

  She burst into his dreams in a flurry of feathers and flight. Finally.

  She gave out a caw as she hovered high above a sandy beach, a bright blue sky above and gentle waves below. Sunlight rained down across her back and light sparkled across the sea. She spread her wings and let an air current send her forward.

  She looked around her in awe. This was Lord Damien’s dreamscape? It was so different than anything she had experienced before—

  Focus.

  She shook her head, then flexed her wings and dove down toward the sandy dunes. This was not the time for admiration. Now was the time to see what Lord Damien held in the darkest recesses of his mind.

  Now was the time to complete her mission and finish off House Maris.

  40

  Images and feelings rushed past Selene as if she were flying from one dream to the next. Maybe she was. She hadn’t dreamwalked in so long that perhaps her gift had stored up momentum, pitching her across multiple dreamscapes.

  First she was playing wooden blocks with a little girl in a light blue dress on the floor of a cabin, then she was sitting at a long wooden table, reading over what looked like a very old scroll. Next, she was staring into the eyes of a pretty young woman, declaring her love before she was swept aboard a ship at sea, her hands steadying the ship’s wheel.

  Over and over again, moving from one mind to another, reliving the memories and feelings of so many people that her own mind was spinning. It took her a dozen dreams before she was able to pull up and hover in her raven form above what looked like Nor Esen, only it was summer and the sun was shining brightly over the rugged city and surrounding cliffs and beaches, with white-crested waves crashing against the rocks and blue water as far as the eye could see.

  Home. The word reverberated within her.

  Then everything went black.

  When she next opened her eyes, she was standing inside the Dark Lady’s sanctuary in Rook Castle. It was exactly as she remembered it on that cold day over a year ago, the day she received the prophetic utterance from the priest about her gift. Pale, overcast light filtered in through the high windows above, and a chill hung in the air, so different compared to Nor Esen from moments ago. The dais ahead was empty, and the retable held unlit candles. The stone floor was bare between the columns, without even a speck of dust to be found.

  She looked down and found herself draped in a long dark cloak, the hood pulled over her head, the way she always wore it when she visited the sanctuary the morning after a new moon. It was almost as if she were revisiting that morning, minus her mother, her sister, and the other disciples.

  And the Dark Lady.

  The Dark Lady never came that night, like the priest said she would. Never answered her when she prayed for help, never showed up until Selene chose to leave Rook Castle. Then the Dark Lady came, haunting her dreams.

  Selene slowly turned around, half expecting the Dark Lady to be standing there, her hood covering most of her face, her black eyes peering out from beneath her cowl, painted lips pressed together, the same way she had shown up in Selene’s dreamscapes.

  But the hall was empty behind her as much as in front of her. Silence. Only silence. And emptiness.

  Then a hand gripped her shoulder. “You’ve come at last,” a raspy voice whispered.

  Selene froze. A putrid smell wafted beneath her nostrils as the air grew even colder. She could see long white fingers along her shoulder, ending in pointed nails.

  “You’ve come, my little raven.”

  She focused on her breathing as she fought the impulse to explode into her raven form and fly away. Even now her body shivered, ready to change.

  No.

  Selene closed her eyes, ignoring the deathly smell and the tight grip along her shoulder. No. The cycle needed to stop. No more running. No more flying away. If she transformed, the same thing would happen again and again. The Dark Lady would follow her. She would always follow her. And more people would get hurt.

  If she wanted to be free of the Dark Lady, then she needed to confront her. Now.

  Slowly, the Dark Lady came around her. Selene watched her move, her heart thudding inside her chest. Even this close, she could not see beneath the Dark Lady’s cowl, only pinpricks of light bouncing from unending black orbs. Did the Dark Lady even have a face, save for her painted lips?

  The thought sent a scream up her throat, but she kept her
lips sealed shut.

  “You’ve stayed away, little raven.” The Dark Lady dropped her hand and stood in front of Selene. “Why?”

  Selene remained silent.

  “I only want to help you,” the Dark Lady whispered in a harsh voice.

  “Help?” A burst of anger sent the word flying.

  Black lips turned upward. “Yes. Help you become the most powerful Raven ever.”

  “Why?”

  “Every other house possesses gifts in the real world. You are the only one who can walk in dreams. In my world. The combination of our powers would be unstoppable.”

  Her mouth slowly loosened. “And what of my mother? My sisters?”

  The smile slid from those black lips. “None of them are as powerful as you.”

  A fire began to burn inside of Selene. “My mother has served you for many years. You would discard her for me?”

  “I never discard a Ravenwood. I groom the next one.” The pinpricks of light seemed to stare intently out from beneath the cowl, almost as if they could see through her.

  “And what if I say no?”

  The air dropped in temperature, and the light in the sanctuary grew dimmer. The Dark Lady’s face seemed to retreat inside her cowl, and the light in her eyes disappeared, leaving only shadows. “I will always be here in the dream world. You cannot escape from me. You cannot escape your destiny.”

  Selene’s throat constricted as deep fears resurfaced. She would fight her destiny, but could she win against the Dark Lady, even with all of her power? What would the Dark Lady do to her if she turned away? Kill her? Suffocate her here in the dreamscape? Trap her soul?

  Did the Dark Lady have that kind of power?

  Then images filled her mind. Ophie standing beside the window, watching the birds flit through the trees. Amara, with her fiery looks and dark auburn hair. A little boy with hair like Damien’s and her own dark eyes—

  Selene’s eyes went wide, and she sucked in a breath. Did that boy represent a new generation of dreamwalkers? A male dreamer?

  If so, to change her family, to alter their destiny, she had to start with the Dark Lady.

  “No.” The word came out in a soft whisper.

  The hood across the Dark Lady’s head fluttered from an unseen wind. “No?”

  Selene’s resolve hardened, that same resolve that got her through the past year, the one that filled her with an unbending will. This was the line. She would not be moved. “I will not follow you.”

  “You cannot escape the shadows, little raven.”

  “Even still, I will not follow you.” I left my home and family behind to find a new way for us all. Her hands tightened at her sides. I will not be a dreamkiller. Not now, not ever. Even if it costs me my life.

  There was a pause. “So be it.”

  What little of the Dark Lady’s face had been visible moments ago disappeared. The dark hood and cloak surged forward. Before Selene could think, her face and body were caught inside the cloak. The back of the hood pressed against her face. The fabric from the cloak wrapped around her body, pinning her arms to her sides.

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She toppled over, unable to move her legs. The cloak continued to tighten its hold around her. Lights began to dance across her eyes like colorful fireflies, and her lungs were on fire. Panic became an animal set loose inside her body, clawing and fighting with an unthinking instinct.

  She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. A cold, tingling chill spread across her body as her heart tried to keep up with the fear inside of her.

  The colorful fireflies disappeared, leaving her vision pitch-black. The cloth across her face pressed in so tightly it was like a second skin, with no way to suck in a mouthful of air.

  She was going to die.

  But it’s only a dream.

  Everything inside of her stilled.

  It’s only a dream.

  Which meant . . .

  She could free herself.

  Selene went deep inside, feeling along every nerve, every limb. Moments later, she could feel the connection of the dreamscape, like strings attached to her body. Thousands of them. A tug here, a pull there, and she could change her entire reality. She focused on the fabric taut against her body, then imagined grabbing the cloak with her hand and yanking it away.

  The cloak disappeared.

  Selene sat up and gulped a lungful of air as her vision returned.

  “Very good. But what about memories?” the harsh voice whispered.

  Before she could take another breath, Selene found herself back in Levellon’s gardens at twilight, standing on a path surrounded by towering trees and scented flowers. Below her gurgled a stream, with a small wooden bridge. And on that bridge stood Damien and the Luceras siblings.

  Her breath hitched at the sight, and a wave of painful loneliness swept across her body. She turned around and held her arms across her body.

  “Why do you look away?”

  An invisible hand yanked her face back toward the scene. Lord Elric held his sister as Damien stood beside them. Her stomach clenched. “No,” Selene breathed and looked away. Again, her face was brought back.

  “You’re not the only one who can manipulate memories. This particular one hurts you.”

  “I will not be controlled by you!” Selene brought her power and force of will against the dreamscape. The scene cracked seconds later and fell away like glass, only to be replaced with the night when she walked inside Renata’s dreams.

  Renata lay in a pool of moonlight on her sleeping mat, her eyes distant, a speck of blood beneath her nostril.

  “You did this to her,” the Dark Lady whispered.

  Selene stared down, horrified. “I know.”

  Suddenly, more people appeared inside the small cabin, all on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, their eyes like Renata’s. Taegis. Karl. Cohen.

  Damien and Ophie.

  “You are the mind shatterer, little raven. This is your future.”

  “No!” Her voice tore across the dreamscape. The scene disappeared into the air like smoke from a fire.

  Selene fell to her knees. Her power was a match for the Dark Lady, but only just. And already she was feeling fatigued from changing the dreamscape. She gripped the sides of her head. I can’t keep doing this. Perhaps I will be giving my life. She lifted her head and dropped her hands. But I won’t follow her. I won’t be a dreamkiller.

  She closed her eyes and pictured Damien’s soulsphere—the first time she saw the light inside of him, and how much she wanted what he had. She still wanted it, to be filled with light, to hold it inside of her like he did. To be a reflection of the Light and not a vessel of darkness.

  She gripped her hands tightly together as she knelt there in pitch-blackness. Light, please hear me. Whether I live or die, do not let me go down the Dark Lady’s path. Help me be strong, even to the end.

  A few seconds later, she opened her eyes. A small light appeared, no bigger than the flame on a candlewick. Just a pinprick in the darkness, but it was light, and it was something to hold on to. It was hope.

  Selene held on to the image with all her being.

  A great gust of wind sprang up out of the darkness. It pressed against her like a typhoon, filling her ears with its harsh whistle, tossing her hair above her head, cutting her skin with a thousand tiny blades. A voice spoke within the wind. “You can never outrun the shadows, little raven. A shadow exists even in the greatest light. I will find you again. And you will be mine.” Then the voice and the wind disappeared.

  When she looked back, there was nothing around her. Only a landscape of grey, from the bare ground to the empty sky above. Like an empty canvas.

  The Dark Lady was gone.

  Selene hunched over, gasping for air, feeling like she was going to retch. Her hands trembled across the floor. Moments later, she leaned down and touched her forehead to the ground. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She knelt there, taking in the silence a
nd solitude. She was still alive and still on her own path, one in contrast to her family. She had faced the Dark Lady and stood her ground.

  There would be another confrontation, the Dark Lady hinted of it. But for now, this was enough.

  Then a sense of unease swept across her spirit.

  Selene lifted her head, spreading out with her senses. Danger. But not toward her. Toward someone else. In another dreamscape.

  Her eyes went wide, and her whole body went rigid.

  Damien.

  41

  Selene struggled to her feet. She stumbled forward, still exhausted from her confrontation with the Dark Lady. Then she began to run across the empty dreamscape, her thoughts on Damien. The dream barrier appeared overhead. With her eyes on the thin line that divided her dreamscape from the real world and other dreams, she burst into her raven form. Up she went in a flurry of feathers and hurled herself forward, her mind completely on Damien so she would reach his dream world.

  Seconds later, she broke through the barrier and dove into the next dreamscape.

  White sand, gentle waves, and a bright blue sky appeared. Sweet cool wind caught her wings and lifted her up. She knew this place. She’d crossed over into Damien’s dreams.

  Selene soared across the sandy beach of his dreamscape, pumping her wings as hard as she could. The sense of danger was even stronger, hitting her like a gale with its intensity. She should have known Mother would send someone after Damien once he left the protection of his water barriers. She should have been watching for an infiltrator. She should never have left him.

  I just need to get to his soulsphere and wake him up.

  As she crested over the last sand dune, a figure came into view, slowly making its way to Damien’s radiant soul. Fear gripped Selene like never before, threatening to paralyze her wings and send her plummeting to the sandy dunes.

  Mother.

  I will not let her take him. She clicked her beak and pushed harder.

  Wait. The figure wasn’t Mother. And why was the walker in human form, and not in raven form? Details came into focus as she drew closer. The dreamwalker was smaller, with short, curly hair. Almost like . . .