THE RAVEN | avengers

[02]

ACT 1
Chapter 02
Sweet Sixteen

Two years. It feels like a lifetime ago since Alexia was just a girl, peeking out of windows and wondering what secrets Kronos held. Now, she was sixteen — almost a woman, though she didn't feel like one yet. Still, she could see it in the mirror. The small changes had begun to settle in, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

Her eyes were wider now, more defined, holding something that hadn't been there before. Maybe it was understanding. Maybe it was the weight of things unspoken, the secrets that lingered between the silences. The freckles across her nose and cheeks had finally stopped spreading. For years, she'd thought they would fade, but now they seemed permanent, as if they had claimed their territory. Her hair had grown, sleek and dark, falling just below her shoulders, like a shadow reflecting the darkness that had begun to grow inside her.

Her body had changed, too. She could see it in the curve of her hips, in the way her clothes fit differently now. And she caught the way people in the village looked at her. Their eyes lingered longer than before, predatory, like they were sizing her up, trying to claim something that wasn't theirs.

Inside the house, the smell of bread and soup lingered — a simple meal she had made before stepping outside. Dmitri and her father sat at the table, eating in silence as they always did. Their quiet meals had become a routine, and she no longer bothered trying to join them. It didn't matter anymore. She had stopped trying to be a part of their world, the one filled with secrets and words, where she simply didn't fit in.

The cold air bit at her face as she stepped into the yard, pulling her coat tighter around her. The snow was thick, fresh, untouched — the perfect canvas for what she had in mind. It was silly, really, but Alexia didn't care. She had always loved building snowmen, even when Dmitri used to laugh at her for it, calling it childish. But there was something about it, something comforting in the simplicity of shaping the snow with her hands. It reminded her that there was still a part of her untouched by the cold, silent world inside the house.

She crouched down, gathering the snow in her hands, packing it into a tight ball. The cold seeped into her fingers, but she barely noticed. It was a distraction — something to focus on that didn't involve Kronos or the weight of the silences between her father and Dmitri.

She began rolling the snowball through the yard, shaping it into the base of the snowman. As it gathered more snow, it grew heavier, but she welcomed the weight. It was grounding, simple. The second ball was easier, smaller, and she lifted it onto the base, smoothing it out with her hands. As she worked, she glanced back towards the house. The light from the windows spilled out onto the snow, casting a warm glow against the icy landscape. Inside, her father and Dmitri sat at the table, their heads bent over their bowls, as if sharing an unspoken conversation. They had grown closer over the past two years, while she had drifted further away. It was like standing on the outside of a locked door, knowing she would never be let in.

She pushed the thoughts aside and focused on shaping the snowman's head, carefully molding it into place. It was the final piece, and her favorite part — the finishing touch that brought it all together. She stepped back to admire her work, brushing the stray strands of hair from her face. The snowman stood tall, almost as tall as she was now. Satisfaction flickered briefly, but the cold wind quickly stole it away, grounding her back in reality.

Alexia didn't have any stones for eyes, so she left the snowman faceless, a blank figure standing alone in the yard. It felt fitting — silent, featureless, just another part of the frozen landscape.

The door creaked behind her, and she turned to see Dmitri stepping out into the cold, his coat pulled tightly around him. His face was half-hidden in the shadow of the porch.