Lost Soul

Chapter Forty-Five: The End

The pain nearly drives me to my knees. I almost throw up right there.

Thomas grins, coldly, forcing me down onto my knees. He presses my dagger into my throat. "You are not good enough for Zorcath's throne," he snarls.

The pressure building in my chest explodes outwards.

It slams into Thomas like a physical force and throws him back, towards the flames.

I stagger to my feet, gathering Scail. I hold the sword out towards Thomas, my vision swimming as the flames lick towards me.

The heat and the smoke take me back to that damn village where I'd almost lost Alex when he tried to save me.

I shake my head like the Minotaur and settle my gaze on Thomas as he sets his feet and readies his blade.

He's still smiling.

I approach, slowly, circling him.

Behind the throne, there's something I've never seen before, even out here.

It's a swirling black, purple, blue, and green mass. Like a black hole, sucking in all light near it. Even the flames die near it, being absorbed into the portal.

My chest heaves as I turn my eyes back on Thomas.

My wing dribbles blood as I move. The blood on my hands makes the sword hilt slick.

I lick my lips and set my feet. "I am good enough," I breathe, shakily.

Thomas sneers, "You're nothing."

He slams his sword down at my head.

I swing Scail up, catching his blade on mine.

He pushes his whole weight into his sword, forcing Scail closer to my head.

I sob and throw my hand up, pressing my already bleeding hand into Scail's blade. I push his sword up and away.

But Thomas smiles. He steps in close. He smells like a hospital. Clean, antiseptic.

It makes my nausea worse.

"You're not good enough to be my daughter," he hisses.

My body stiffens against him as my dagger plunges into my stomach. For a breath, I don't feel the pain. I don't feel the pain in my hands, or my wing, or my back. The stab wound doesn't register. It doesn't hurt.

Nothing hurts.

For that breath, I think, ah, this is what Death is supposed to feel like.

An end of suffering. No pain. No sorrow. Just peace.

Then, it all rushes in at once.

The flames singeing my wing tips. The screaming of the cuts on my hands. The oozing silver and blood dripping down my wing. The dagger twisting in my abdomen.

My breath wooshes out of me.

Tears burst into my eyes and my knees threaten to give out.

I refuse to fall.

I slam my forehead into Thomas's nose and he bellows.

He stumbles back, taking his sword and my dagger with him.

I sway, pressing a hand over the stab wound.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I look down at Thomas.

"I'm not good enough?" I ask, meeting his gaze.

He stares at me.

"Good," I spit.

I turn, and run.

I throw myself through the portal.

The world turns black.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for reading this far! I hope you all have enjoyed! I will probably go through and edit all the chapters at some point, but if this part of my A/N is still here, I probably haven't done that yet lmao

Lost Soul (and the next two books in the series, which I'm still working on) have been a passion project of mine for many years. I first got the idea for Raven Black and their wacky crew when I was thirteen years old. My uncle bought me my first dinky little laptop, which made writing so much easier than the tablet/computer thing my mom had got me years prior. I started writing Raven's story on that laptop (which I still have). It was vastly different then to how it is now. Instead of writing it once, then editing it, I rewrote it every time I was dissatisfied, so it has seen many lives.

I feel like this may be the last time I rewrite Lost Soul. While it's not perfect, it tells the story I've been trying to tell since I was thirteen and I first put Raven's story to paper (and Word Doc). I plan for this series to be a trilogy, so there will be more Raven Black in the future, if you enjoyed Raven's story this time around. 

One of the pieces of writing advice that has really stuck with me is to write the story you want to read. And I think Raven's story is the story I always wanted to read. Someone that never gave up. Someone whose found family was connected to them through something so deep, that bond could never be broken. 

I will admit, however, that in the first few telling's of this story, Raven was a lot more hopeless. I started writing their story when my depression was bad, and Raven gave up a lot. But as time went on, and I got help for my mental health, Raven giving up wasn't the story I wanted to tell. Rather, I wanted to tell the story of a person who got hurt, and sure, sometimes they wanted to give up, but they had something to hold onto. They had hope for something better. 

I'm not the best writer or storyteller, but I hope you could find a piece of yourself somewhere within these 'pages'. I know I found myself in the process of writing this story. (Ironically, Daniel Woods was named Daniel before I was lmao, he was not meant to be a self-insert but I was too attached to the name to change it, and I named his siblings after my siblings to hit it home). (Is that a spoiler? ... Oh, well). 

This has been a long author's note, but then again, this has been a long story. I've never felt very emotional writing the end of Book One, because I knew I'd come back and rewrite it until I was proud of it. But now, I feel like I'm proud of what I've written. I feel a little sad that this may be the last time I'm writing about Raven's beginning. But I hope this story will never stop being someone's comfort story. Maybe, one day, someone will have read it as many times as I've rewritten it (which was a lot). While Raven's beginning has, inevitably, come to an end, their story has not. I hope to see all my readers here again, when Raven returns with more trials, tribulations, and extremely unhealthy obsession with keeping their friends safe.

Thank you all for reading! Have an amazing day!!