The Raven and the Wraith Book 2 (Completed!)

The Raven and the Wraith 2 Chapter 53

The Raven and the Wraith 2 Chapter 53

We walked on. The path had straightened after that first curve, after that first boy I had fought and killed. The walls were familiar, if not comforting. Riva noticed how I looked straight ahead, how rarely I watched the memories as they flowed past.

"Do you ignore your past? Are you scared of it?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "It's my own past, why would I be scared of it?"

"That is not an answer."

Her haughty look grated on me. I wondered what she would do if I scooped her up and snuggled her like an everyday house cat. It would certainly upset her perfect poise, if only for the instant it took to claw me to ribbons. I wondered if it still would be worth it.

Riva's tail flicked back and forth fitfully. "Whatever you're considering doing, do not. You're a foolish kitten, but you should be wise enough to know to never cross a Werecat."

"Well, you're sashaying along next to me like some pretty little house cat, so I considered just picking you up and rubbing your belly. Like I would any house cat." It was difficult to keep the grin out of my voice. I was impressed I had managed to sound as serious as I had.

Silver fire began to sparkle in Riva's eyes, and at the tip of her tail, and I swore I heard distant thunder growling far off. "That would be one of the most foolish things any being could ever attempt."

I smiled at her deadly tone. "Yeah, well what if you enjoyed it? What then? You're just a house cat, after all."

"What if you lose a hand? Will you enjoy it? You're just a foolish kitten, after all."

I was ready to reply to that, but then a shift in the path ahead caught my attention. It wasn't just a shift, or a curve. The path ended with a flat, gray wall, it's only feature a single door. I cautiously stepped closer, feeling a bit silly for being so wary of a basic door, but unable to ignore the growing sense of dread that door was inspiring.

It was a thoroughly normal wooden door, in size and appearance, except for the door handle. It was shaped like two, crossed throwing knives. Small, identical replicas of my throwing knives. The ones my mother had carried, the ones that she had left for me. My only link to my childhood.

I pointed at them. "What is this?"

Riva looked decidedly uninterested. "A door handle." She stated blandly.

I pulled out my throwing knives and held them near the door handle. "They're the same."

Riva's ears perked up and she stepped closer. "Doors have many meanings, but it is rare the handle is tied to a Path. Where did you get those blades?"

Her confusing statement about doors irritated me, but I could sense she was intensely curious, now. Maybe, if I was careful, I could extract more information from her.

"They were a gift from my mother. The only things she left for me."

I held them down to her and she carefully sniffed them. Her emerald eyes flashed, a frigid glow, and she took one, quick step back. "Dragon fangs!" She hissed.

I looked at the blades. "Hm? These things? Nah, they're just nice throwing knives."

Riva composed herself, drawing her feathery tail tight around her feet, one of her ears flicking in obvious dismissal. "You carry blades forged in magic older than even Werecats, or any of the Major races. And you say they're just nice throwing knives."

I shrugged. There didn't seem to be any better way to respond to that.

"The twists of clues tied to your life are painting a picture. I will find the fallen Werecat, I will hunt him to the bitter end, and I will restore Balance. But now, your Path and mine must break."

Riva looked to the door, her ears flattening a bit.

"Open it, Werecat. Face your Path."

I opened the door. It felt solid, and deceptively normal, swinging open like any other door. The blackness beyond was more than the simple absence of light. It was a perfect void, a hole in reality. A void shaped exactly like me.

I turned to ask Riva a question, but there were just sparkling, silver motes drifting in the air where she had been.

"Be well, Rahvin. Let your instincts guide you. Leave those blades behind, you need no ties to the shadow cat that tried to own you." Riva's voice in my head, one last time. 

Then I could sense she was truly gone. I was alone, here in front of a door I was utterly terrified to enter. And I had no other choice. I grumbled a few, choice filthy words, then stepped through the door.

The scents that flooded into my nose were familiar. Horridly, paralyzingly familiar. The dull, cloudy sky overhead, lit by a watery, uncaring moon, was familiar. And the arched gateway directly in front of me was familiar.

The cobblestone street was grimy, like not even the wind and rain could wash away the filth that coated everything here. The archway was as deeply disturbing as I remembered. It was carved from what looked like a single block of stone, no seams or joins visible anywhere along its curving shape.

It was an archway made of stone, but the hundreds of precisely carved possums all over it made it appear like it was formed from multiple mysterious materials. Some people said the possums appeared to be frolicking together, but I knew better. They were all trying to eat each other. Every single one.

Just like the wretched inhabitants of this hellhole.