Raven lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Haledon’s temple was entirely too bright for her tastes. The curtains that draped over the broad windows of the guest quarters were constructed of a fine material that merely obstructed the view from outside and filtered none of the sunlight out of the room.
She yawned and stretched. A knock at the door brought her onto her side. “Yes?”
“Sis, it’s me. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Raven sat up in the bed, pulling her covers up with her.
The door opened and Loki stepped in. “How are you feeling?”
She nodded. “Fine.” She shrugged, hoping he would take it for an admittance to being tired. The truth was, Loki would expect her to be nothing less than exhausted this morning. Yet, she felt Adonides’s blood stirring within her, awakening her to her power and ruthlessly shoving all thoughts of sleep far from her mind. “I loathe you morning people,” she said, her voice teasing.
“Why don’t you just go back to sleep?” he asked as he closed the door behind him.
“Because half of Haledon’s priests are out on the lawn singing in chorus, and the other half are in the kitchen banging pots and pans. And Haledon himself has come to call,” she said as she shot a menacing glare at the window across the room. Strong morning light shafted in through the thin curtains.
Loki chuckled softly and came to sit at the foot of the bed. He looked at her for a few moments as she stared out at the windows. Her face showed no signs of weariness. Instead, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her hair shimmered blue-black in the morning light. He shook his head, bemused by how effortless it was for her.
“What is it with your ability to look refreshed after all you’ve been through? In your shoes, I would look like a corpse,” he said.
She turned toward him. “What do you mean?”
“You look as though you’ve slept for a year and eaten a feast. You look good.” He shrugged, still shaking his head, obviously baffled but unwilling to waste time pondering it overly much.
Raven took a deep breath. “I guess it’s in my blood.”
That brought silence between them and Raven once again looked away.
“We should start toward Yscar today, if you’re up to it. And apparently, you are,” Loki said.
Raven didn’t answer right away. After the silence had stretched for a few seconds, she sighed. “I have to meet with Adonides this morning. He has promised to help me learn more.” She turned to face him again. His expression was clearly disapproving.
“Loki, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I’m not sure whether the elves will come after us for attacking their prince. Or, rather, come after me. If they decide to make an example of me, it won’t matter where we’ve run to. From what we’ve been told and what we’ve seen, the elves are too powerful.” She paused, her brow furrowed. “And I have this strange feeling. Like something is.… Something is going to happen. My instincts are telling me I need to be prepared.”
Loki cocked his head to one side and studied her carefully. “Are you going to disappear on me again?” he asked softly. Raven could tell he wasn’t entirely teasing.
She shook her head. “I’ll try my best not to.”
“You’ve been through so much, though. The village council… Brayden and Selby… the Elf Prince, and then Talon and your father,” he took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. “Raven, you must be overwhelmed. Are you thinking clearly? Is Adonides truly to be trusted? He’s a devil, after all, and devils can’t be…” His voice fell away as they both realized what he had said. And what he’d been about to say.
Raven pulled her hand from his and leaned back against the head board. She turned away from him to stare into the distance, at nothing. It was entirely natural for someone like Loki to feel the way he felt about devils, and particularly Malphas and his minions.
She wouldn’t blame him if he never truly came to accept that she held a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul inside her own. She was as much a devil as Adonides, if not more so. She wondered, as her stomach knotted and she forced herself to relax, what Loki would think when he saw her drink blood. It was sure to happen, and sooner rather than later.
“I understand your fears, Loki. I have them too. But I can’t change the past. I can’t help who and what I am.”
“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
“And this is all a bit overwhelming,” she continued, as if he’d said nothing. “You have to believe me when I tell you that things are even more complicated and more frightening than you know.” She shook her head then. “But, as I’ve said, I can do nothing to change it. I can only learn to live with it and prepare myself for whatever it is I feel – what I know – is coming.”
Loki watched her silently for several moments. Then he looked down at his hands and nodded.
Saying nothing, he stood and made his way to the door. “I’ll go to the kitchen and get you some breakfast.” Before she could reply, he shut the door behind him and she was alone.
Raven closed her eyes and sat there, her back against the cool, hard wooden surface of the headboard, her hands loose in her lap. In a few moments, the singing outside stopped.
A cool breeze played with the loose locks around her face. She breathed deeply, enjoying the refreshing contact. And then her eyes flew open. She glanced at the window. It was shut tight. The curtains were still.
Her heartbeat sped up. The temperature in the room began to drop. She glanced at the mirror on the dresser top and noticed a few ice crystals of frost forming across its surface. She pushed back her covers and stood.
“Adonides?” she called, her eyes searching every corner of the small room. There was no reply. Another breeze played through her long hair. She turned to face the windows again. She could see nothing through the ivory material. Her bare feet stepped lightly across the floor even as it began to frost, just as the mirror had. She moved steadily toward the windows.
The temperature continued to fall. Her breaths were fogging now. She blinked and cold condensation on her eyelashes grazed against her cheeks. She reached the windows.
And pulled back the curtains.
Snow and ice filled the landscape, as far as the eye could see. The sunflowers were gone, the trees were gone, the mountains in the distance had vanished. In their places were glaciers and ice floes, and a dim sky like an eternal dusk.
Raven gazed out over the forever winter and then found that she was climbing up onto the bed and over the windowsill as if driven subconsciously. Her bare feet touched down upon smooth ice, but she was numb to its chill. She moved slowly, deliberately, across the frozen wasteland, her thin night gown the only barrier between herself and the snow white landscape.
In a few moments, she came to a staircase carved of ice that wound up a massive glacier several miles wide and twice that tall. She began to climb. She looked up as she stepped, always drawing nearer to the top, always an eternity away.
Until finally, she reached an icy landing and stepped out onto the glacier summit. A figure in black stood at the glacier’s edge, his back to her as he gazed out over the frozen horizon.
She approached, hesitantly.
“Give yourself to me, Winter. You need me as much as I need you.”
He had not turned to face her yet, but his voice was commanding, calm and gentle, deep and inviting. It wrapped around her like a caress, drawing her nearer. She came to stand beside him and stared out over the ice land below.
“Look at what can be, what will be. All is as quiet beneath the ice as it is calm above. There is no weary violence here, Winter.” He paused for a moment, allowing her to feel the innate peace of the frozen world. Then he continued, “I can make this happen. With you. When the time comes, do not fight me in this. Help me to make things right.” He spoke to her in softened tones as she peered into the distance, and then, without a word, she slowly turned to face him.
He looked down at her and smiled. His blue, cat-like eyes shone eerily in the stark brightness of the glaring snow around them. He reached out to touch her, his hand gently cupping her face.
And she woke up.
Her head jerked as she came to, slamming painfully on the head board behind her. She cursed and put her hand to the back of her skull, rubbing gently. As she did so, she peered around the room.
The singing outside had stopped and all was still. The temple guest room was empty save for her. She glanced at the windows. They were shut tight, the curtains still and undisturbed. She felt no breeze, but she was cold. She shivered and pulled the blankets to her chin.
Despite Loki’s insistence to the contrary, she was now positive that something bad was going to happen. And apparently it had everything to do with her. She needed to gain control of her powers. She needed to see Adonides.
With that thought, she pushed her covers back and stood, this time for real. Then she pulled on her clothes and, after tying her long thick hair back with a leather cord, she moved to the writing desk, where she penned a quick note to her brother. She knew where she was headed and hoped her written directions would suffice should he need to reach her quickly.
Then she moved to the giant windows.
There, she hesitated, her hand in mid-motion over the thin, gauzy material. Her dream lingered uncomfortably around her mind like a veil she could not completely swipe away. But the air here was warm, not cold. She took a deep breath and pulled the curtains aside.
A field of sunflowers spread over several acres, coming to rest at the edge of a dense forest beyond. The tall yellow and orange blooms swayed and bobbed in the peaceful summer’s breeze. There was no one in sight. The acolytes had apparently retired for the morning.
With one last glance at the closed door, she unlatched the locks on the windows and swung them open. She climbed over the sill and landed softly in the ploughed earth below. After she softly pulled the panes shut behind her, she peeked out from behind the bushes, making certain no one was within sight.
When she was sure the coast was clear, she quickly made her way to the trail leading from the temple, then ducked into the sunflowers.
Bees buzzed loudly around the large blooms, and the air was thick with pollen. A few of the flowers had burst open, their seeds pouring to the soft soil below. Raven bent and picked up a handful of the large kernels, pocketing them for later. Then she made her way to the forest’s edge.
Retracing her steps from the previous night, she managed to find her way back to the small field of wild grass where Adonides had shown her several spells the day before.
Raven entered the field alone. She paused at the entrance to the clearing, listening and looking. Not a soul was within sight or sound. She wasn’t surprised. Adonides had said he would meet her in the afternoon. She had a few hours to waste.
She walked into the clearing, toward a group of boulders at its center. Then she sighed and climbed up on top of the largest rock, enjoying the mild warmth before the true heat of the summer’s day set in.
She closed her eyes and laid back. The flat stone was long enough to support her entire body and she relaxed against its smooth surface, her mind spinning with the events of the past week and the strange waking-dream she’d had that morning.
The sound of grass and twigs crunching beneath hooves pulled her from her thoughts. Her eyes flew open and she sat up. Across the field, near the tree line, stood three dark figures on horseback.
Raven jumped to her feet at once, the events of the week having built within her a reflex for fight or flight. Instinctively, she moved behind the boulder to put its girth between herself and intruders who now stared down at her across the field’s rather short distance. They did not move and Raven wondered at to their intentions.
Two of the riders wore leather armor, studs and spikes dotting the breast plate and shoulder guards of their battle garb. They sported twisted, red-skinned faces that were lined with nicks and scars and their eyes blazed a bright, eerie green. They were clearly not human. Raven had never before seen creatures of their ilk.
She tried not to judge. After all, she was a devil. But, again, she was alone and they were huge and, frankly, they appeared less than kind.
The third rider, whose tall, strong form sat upon a giant black steed between the others, wore pitch black clothing and a black hooded cloak that shielded his visage from her vision.
Still, Raven could perceive the third rider’s eyes searing into her. Strangely, a feeling of familiarity about the third rider tickled at the far edges of her senses.
They waited, yet unmoving, for close to a full minute. It was too long. What are they waiting for? Raven thought. It was as if they were sizing her up – the way a predator sizes up its prey.
Anyone with honest intentions would have begged her forgiveness for the intrusion or simply ignored her and passed through the field. These men – these things – were not here with honest intentions.
With that realization, panic rose sharply in Raven’s belly. She tried to remember anything useful that Adonides had taught her. She recalled the spell for calling snow and though she would now be easily able to cast it, she knew it would do no good. It would just make it snow.
She fought frantically to recall something else – anything – that Adonides had shown her. There was one incantation he’d begun to teach her; the one he had used on the bounty hunters in their camp what seemed like ages ago. But he had only really shared with her the basic idea of the spell and she hadn’t actually tried it herself.
Still, she thought as she slowly backed up from the rock and focused on the riders, it’s worth a try. Anything was better than nothing.
While the three mounted figures waited, their horses fidgeting slightly in the shadows of the tall trees behind them, Raven reached out for her power with mental fingers that clawed and scraped the walls of her mind.
When she had what she thought she needed, she released it in their general direction, foregoing the verbal aspect of the spell and shoving the magic forward on sheer will-born momentum.
It worked for a moment. Or, at least it seemed to. A blast of cold air shot past her, causing her hair to fly forward and into her face. From beneath her feet, a coat of rime crackled over the grass, spreading outward at a rapid pace.
The flash of freezing magic raced across the field, icing the ground beneath inches of thick rime until it reached the hooves of the horses that bore the strange riders, causing them to whinny and paw in nervous agitation.
Raven watched as steam spouted from their flared nostrils and open mouths. Frost formed quickly on their equine lips and eyelashes and then one of them bucked in alarm as the real death-dealing portion of the magic set in.
A twinge of guilt caught at Raven’s heart. She hadn’t meant to harm the animals. Just the riders. But it mattered little, as the middle rider then raised his right, gloved hand and waved it almost inconsequentially. The horses calmed, the air de-fogged, and the frost was quickly melted from the horses’ manes. His anti-magic spread across the field as quickly as Raven’s spell had, and within seconds, the grass was no longer frozen. Summer was back.
In a desperation spawned by the sudden insight that this man was much, much more formidable than she, Raven willed herself to make the change to Winter.
Just as she began to feel her limbs lengthen, her wings spring forth from her back, and her body grow stronger, the cloaked figure once more raised his gloved hand, and an incantation rang out across the field, his voice resounding against the forest line like an evil echo. He closed his hands into a fist, and Raven felt her power being sapped. Drained. Her change into Winter halted and she once again became Raven. “No!” she yelled, frustrated and frightened to the point that her chest felt hot, and her legs felt as if they weren’t even there.
And then the cloaked rider stirred. Slowly, he pulled back his black cowl, revealing himself to her. Raven could not move. Locks of straight jet-black hair fell beyond his shoulders, a gray goatee covered his chin, and a wicked scar ran the length of one side of his face. Piercing pale blue eyes with pupils like a cat’s gazed out at her from a striking visage both handsome and terrifying. His ears, long and pointed, marked him as an elf, though his cat-like eyes were different than Prince Astriel’s eyes had been.
Regardless, Raven knew him instantly. He was the man from her dreams. The man who had destroyed a world, covered it in ice. The man who had asked her to join him.…
He did not smile. For several long moments, he simply stared at her, those bizarre blue eyes taking in every detail. And then he spurred his stallion into quick forward motion, and suddenly the three riders were charging at a full gallop across the small field. Raven came out of her strange, mesmerized stupor as if lightning had struck her. She wasted no time or energy screaming and simply spun on her heel to break into as fast a run as her long legs could manage. She headed directly for the forest line; the sunflower field was beyond it, and the temple of Haledon beyond that. She ran toward her brother and the only safety she had ever really known.
The sound of thundering hooves rose behind her. Terror sent her heart into overdrive. It hurt and felt as if it would break, even as her numb legs seemed to move faster, all on their own. She wasn’t sure she was breathing.
The horses were, though. In mere seconds, she felt their hot breath on her neck, and a strong arm snaked down from beside her, scooping her up into a steel-lined embrace. She opened her mouth to scream, to beg, to try yet some other, frantically grasped spell. She would make one up if she had to! But a gloved hand clamped down hard over her mouth, preventing all sound. She was roughly repositioned upon the stallion’s saddle, her back pressed tight against her captor’s chest.
The horses continued at their relentless gallop and somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered where they were going.
“If you say a single word,” his voice hissed in her ear, “I will kill your brother.”
Raven couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This cloaked man, this figure from her dreams, knew she had a brother? Who was he? How did he know about her? What had that dream meant? What did he want with her?
“I want you, Raven. I want all of you. I want your soul, and you are going to give it to me, freely, of your own will.” His voice carried clearly to her over the sound of the horses’ hooves thundering across the ground. It was a voice laced with powerful magic; she could hear it, recognize it in every word, feeding every intonation. She had the horrible feeling that he could do anything he wanted.
Reason fled her and she lashed out, letting go of the strong arm he had over her mouth to drive both elbows back into his chest. It was a mistake. They connected with his body as if he were made of metal. She recognized it was a spell of protection even as the magical armor rang against her bone and she cried out with pain, her fingers going completely numb.
Her captor removed his hand from her mouth as if he had not even noticed that she’d attacked him. In a softer tone, he warned her once again. “Not a word.”
She couldn’t help the whimper that rose from her throat as she fought not to at least ask him where they were going – what, exactly, they were going to do with her.
The riders hit the forest line and never slowed, entering the thick underbrush at break-neck speed. Their horses galloped easily over vines and boulders as if they knew exactly where to place their hooves. None of the riders spoke. She could hear the black material of her captor’s cloak whipping about in the wind.
As despair was beginning to set in, something dark moved to her left, just ahead of the riders. Before she could determine what it had been, the object blurred and was slamming into her and her captor, knocking them both violently from the back of the horse.
Raven cried out and tried to catch herself as they fell, but her captor pulled her tightly to him, turning with her in the air so that he landed on his back, she on top of him. The wind rushed from her lungs at the collision of her body against his, but he had absorbed most of the impact, sparing her the brunt of the pain. She was only slightly disoriented upon landing. They rolled a short distance and came to a halt. Almost immediately, she began to try to scramble away from him, but his arm held her tight.
He was speaking in a strange language to the other two riders. She felt her body being shoved quickly to the side. Large, strong hands pulled her up, yanking her off of her feet and spinning her around.
The two red-skinned riders held her between them, their taloned fingers digging tiny furrows into the flesh of her arms. She yanked on either side, but to no avail. A few feet away, the bearded elf who had caught her shrugged off his cloak, stood, and turned to face whatever it was that had knocked them from his horse.
Raven followed his gaze and tried to catch her breath.
A man in full black leather armor stood on the opposite side of the trail. He was taller than the elf by several inches and his build was monumentally stronger. Upon his back rested a long two-handed sword in a sheath of black leather that matched the rest of his armor. Upon his chest was an emblem composed of three black-on-black symbols in clear relief; an eye, a hand, and a rope.
Raven found herself instantly drawn to him. His complexion was swarthy and his eyes shone like molten silver, piercing and stark against the tan of his skin. His shoulder-length hair was wavy and black and curled against his brow in a way that unwittingly captured Raven’s attention. His features were chiseled, his jaw strong, his nose a perfect match. His lips were pressed together in a grim line of determination. He’d come up in a fighter’s stance, strong and steady, his weight evenly distributed upon both of his long legs. His eyes bored into his opponent’s, who had turned to stare at him, obviously sizing him up.
The elf seemed taken aback at first. But then he appeared to compose himself and even smiled. It was a cruel, gleaming white smile, promising pain and death. He began to cast a spell. In the split second before he finished the short incantation, the stranger in black leather looked from him – to Raven.
Their gazes caught and held. Make the change! a voice exploded inside her mind. Raven’s eyes widened.
Then the elf released his magic and white-hot bolts of energy went racing from his gloved, outstretched palms into the stranger’s tall form.
Raven wanted to close her eyes, unwilling to watch the destruction of this striking stranger. However, the stranger’s vivid metal gaze held her as steady in its grip as she imagined he could hold her in his own obviously capable arms.
Raven felt at once ridiculously stupid and utterly lost. What was it about this man? There was something intangible to him that inexorably drew her in. His attention made it harder to breathe, much less move.
The elf’s power crashed into his tall opponent, but instead of rendering the handsome stranger unconscious or frying him as it should have, the magic simply cascaded around the man’s body, deflected and useless, until it fell away into nothingness, sizzling out of existence like a dying fire.
The elf’s blue-eyed gaze narrowed.
It had no effect, Raven thought, bewildered. The elf’s magic can’t hurt him!
Hope flared to life within Raven and, in the wake of this would-be savior’s strength against her captor, her own situation no longer felt as bleak. She glanced at the beasts holding her, once more taking in their red skin and green eyes and formidable statures. Then she focused on her body, digging deep and willing it to make its change.
As she did so, she glanced once more at the man in black leather. He had not looked away from her. Not once. Even as the elf’s magic had poured over him, his gaze had remained locked on her form, and he was looking at her still. Raven’s heart did a strange and unsettling flutter in her chest. Time seemed to slow as they stared one another down. The silence stretched.
Raven felt her fingertips beginning to harden, her incisors to lengthen.
But suddenly, she wondered whether she should wait. She held the change back, her gut telling her this was not the right time. Nothing was moving, no one was doing anything.
This might be all that she had. Timing could be everything.
Ever so slowly, even dauntingly, the leather clad stranger turned his gaze away from Raven to pin his silver eyes on the gray-bearded elf.
“Cruor,” the stranger said.. He bowed his head toward the elf, as if in greeting and deference. Then he smiled, white teeth flashing in a grin that brought Raven’s breath up short. He’s… perfect, she thought. It was illogical, even reprehensible that she should be reacting this way to a total stranger at this inopportune time. But there it was.
“Your magic can not harm me, mage,” the stranger continued.
The elf called Cruor narrowed his blue cat-like gaze, his brow vaguely furrowed.
Even Raven knew that the man in leather armor should have been leveled by the spell he had cast. His tall, strong body should have been crushed or blown apart, or at the very least, set on fire. Yet, there he stood. Utterly unaffected.
In the next instant, he attacked. The stranger pulled his sword from his back with such speed that Raven could barely see it happening. In response, Cruor began moving his hands in the air once more. A shimmering wall of magic appeared between him and his attacker, a sort of barrier made of nothing but solidified air.
The man with the sword swung and his blade collided with the force field, sending sparks shooting in every direction. Then he hit it again. And again. Three times, four – until finally the barrier fizzled and fell.
Cruor’s cat-like eyes widened. He took a wary step back, raised one arm in his opponent’s direction, and spoke a few short archaic words. When nothing happened and the dark man continued to advance, the elf stepped back once again.
The man with the sword shook his head. “I told you already, elf. Your magic will not work on me. Now, I wonder….” He spoke slowly, calmly, as he continued to move forward, his long sword gleaming in the shafts of light that streamed through the trees overhead. “Does your prince know what designs you have against his woman?”
Cruor’s gaze narrowed then. He straightened. His eyes flitted from his attacker’s face to the insignia on his chest. Comprehension dawned on his face and he looked back up. “Tanith,” he hissed, a sly smile returning to his features.
The man with the sword nodded once again. “At your service.”
Cruor shook his head. “I can only assume that you are Drake of Tanith, the most notorious among your order,” Cruor continued, almost calmly. “Astriel must have hired you to retrieve her. I’m surprised he didn’t simply recover her himself.”
“He must have had his reasons.”
“Tell me bounty hunter, what interest can the prince possibly have in The Chosen Soul?” Cruor asked the question in seemingly unruffled interest, the two of them speaking to each other as if they were simply making polite conversation, even as one advanced upon the other, death and violent intent clear in his every step.
This time, the bounty hunter did not answer, and Raven’s gaze narrowed upon him.
Bounty Hunter? Tanith? The prince hired him, she thought to herself. To retrieve me… the prince… Prince Astriel! New alarm rose within her. She had been rescued from one fiend who wished her harm only because she was sought after by another! Out of the cauldron and into the fire, her mind spat.
Raven gritted her teeth, her fevered brain now working overtime. As soon as he is distracted, she told herself. As soon as they begin to struggle – I will change and be gone from this place and this elf and this dangerous, silver-eyed man….
Drake, the infamous bounty hunter of Tanith, simply shook his head and lunged toward the elf, his sword coming down in a swift, deadly arc.
Cruor was there in one instant and gone in the next.
Raven gasped, instantly searching the clearing for any sign of him.
The bounty hunter straightened. His body stilled, his head cocked to one side. He was listening.
In the next moment, he was spinning, his sword coming up in an expert block as Cruor appeared behind him, dressed this time in leather armor that matched the bounty hunter’s, all the way down to the insignia on his chest. In his hands was a long sword of the same make as Tanith’s, and he was swinging it down upon his opponent’s head with mastered skill and grace.
Tanith blocked the weapon’s descent and sparks shot off of their blades as they collided and slid along one another. Again, Cruor attacked and again Tanith blocked.
The two began to circle each other, the sound of their swords clashing ringing out through the forest. So many sparks shot off of their blades that Raven was half afraid the underbrush would catch fire.
Now is my chance.
Raven once more looked at the red-skinned beast to her right and then at the one to her left. They were impossibly well muscled, clearly very strong. The green blaze in their inhuman eyes was entirely unnerving. Yet, Raven knew well that her own true form was more than a touch unnerving as well. It was her only option.
She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to calm. Slowly in – slowly out. She ignored the continued, furious sound of sword battle that raged a few yards away. She thought of Winter, of her father, of Caina. She concentrated on the blood rushing through her veins. A devil’s blood, powerful, deadly. In fact, it was the blood of two devils.
With that thought, she reached into herself, found her soul, and brought it up out of the darkness. It instantly suffused her mortal body with its power. When she opened her eyes again, it was to find that everything had turned a very deep shade of blue. It was almost as if clouds had covered the sky and blotted out the sun, but Raven knew that it was only from her side, only through her own eyes that the world appeared that way.
She felt her fingertips lengthen into razor-sharp cold-iron claws. Her fangs following suit. Then she turned her gaze upon the red-skinned creature to her right. He turned his green glowing eyes on her in answer, and there, they widened in shock. With what she knew must have been a very nasty, fang-filled smile, Raven curled her now fully-grown claws into her captor’s wrist and dug in deep.
He howled in pain and drew back from her, releasing her right arm, which she instantly swung around to rake across her other captor’s face. He too cried out in agony and backpedaled, letting her other arm go.
Raven took several long steps back and willed the rest of her change. This time it came fast and furious. Her wings exploded from her back in a show of black raven’s feathers and expanded to their full wing span within short seconds. Her form grew taller, her skin darkened, and her hair went from pitch black to shocking white in the space of a few heartbeats.
She beat her wings once against the air and rose several feet off of the ground.
Below, the battle between the two men raged, neither seeming to have gained an upper hand.
Raven hovered there for a moment, watching the bounty hunter move. He was amazing to watch. The grace with which he blocked and spun and the speed with which he countered and attacked was bewildering. It clearly came naturally for him. She had never seen a man move the way he did. It was almost as if he wasn’t a mere man at all.
Drake, she thought, trying the name out in her head. Drake of Tanith.
At that, the bounty hunter spun around and looked up, zeroing in on her to scorch her with his molten metal gaze.
Raven’s stomach flipped. She inhaled sharply and beat her wings once against the air to rise out of the field. As she made her way over the tree tops, she overheard the two demonic, red-skinned creatures begin to yell at one another in some unknown language. But whatever they were discussing no longer mattered.
She was over the tree line and soaring through the skies as if she’d been born to fly first – walk second. She lost track of time, distance and direction. She simply flew as fast as she could, only wanting to put distance between herself and her assailants.
Finally, as the adrenaline began to leave her body and she realized that she was lost, she peered down into the forest and searched for a clearing.
In a few moments, she spotted a small watering hole and brought her wings closer together, allowing herself to fall softly, slowly, to the ground.