The Raven's Chronicles. Rage of the Wraith

Chapter 7. The Ravens

Chapter 7. The Ravens

Sand, warm and wet with blood, stuck to his bare feet. He walked alone across the beach between rows of bodies lying under rags and blankets. An unknown force pushed him forward, to the last corpse; a little white hand poked out from under the patchy rug. He reached for it against his will, grasped the material and gave it a tug.

Maya's dead face resembled a porcelain doll, broken and empty. Her lifeless eyes gazed at him: large, brown and filled with terror -

A thump made Jules jump on the bed. A wave of piercing coldness went through his body despite the warm blankets. Dark shadows swirled on the ceiling above his bed, danced and puffed on the walls. A cacophony of croaking shook the castle's fundaments.

"What's going on!?" Jules scrambled and ran to the window. The world outside was blurred through the thick glass; the boy opened the window to see hundreds of ravens flying around the castle like a dark cloud, croaking and circling. The dawn was grey and grim with heavy, storm clouds hanging low above the town.

"Step back!" Ravin grasped Jules' arm and pushed him away. He slammed the window shut, slamming it into a raven that was about to fly into the room. The glass shattered, sharp pieces scattered around and the bird fell between them, dead. "Get away from the windows!"

Jules stared, his feet rooted to the ground. Many other panes broke in a cacophony of clicking and yells. The croaking combined with screams into one, terrifying uproar.

"It's her?" he turned toward his master. "Can a ghost even -?" he froze up when the hunter grabbed him in half, lifted and dropped him onto his bed like a bag of potatoes.

"Get your boots on, quickly. The glass is everywhere."

Jules nodded sharply, only now realising the man had been already fully dressed and the door of their room was open. The boy reached under the bed to get his shoes; he pulled them on bare feet and ran after the man.

The corridor was empty, but screams and yells echoed between the walls. The hunter and his apprentice left the tower, entering the castle's residential wing.

People panicked. A woman in a nightgown stormed out of one room - pressing her palm to a bleeding cheek - and into another. She slammed the door; just then a raven hit it and fell to the ground. A guardsman dashed down the corridor and stepped on the bird, squashing it under his foot. He barely took another step before a servant hurtled around the corner and crashed into him.

"Quickly!" Ravin grasped Jules' arm and steered him toward the staircase.

They ran past sir Arver's office and climbed the stairs. The floor seemed empty; all door closed, no living soul - or dead, for that matter - and the croaking mixed with the weeping of a little child.

The hunter pulled his rod out of his pocket, pushed the door of the Lord's chamber open and walked inside. Jules followed him closely. The windows were all broken - shards scattered around the room - and despite the wind, the air stank of decay.

"Ravin!" the healeress cried desperately. Jules caught a glimpse of her kneeling by the Lord's bed, gripping a blanket with which she tried to shield both herself and the old man against the glass and the crazed birds.