RAVEN

CHAPTER 6

Whisper of the Crow

Shadows danced on the walls, as rain trickled down the window, curtains drawn shut.

A dim light from a smoking oil lamp cast away the darkness of the evening, illuminating the various old parchments, covered in ancient scripts, and stacks of leather books messily scattered on the table.

The library was empty except for a solitary figure sitting in a chair, hunched over a book a size bigger than that of her own body. And in the quiet, the rustling of pages sounded similar to a crackling fire amidst the storm outside.

She quickly flipped through the aged binding, handling the book with great care. The inked letters were a stark contrast to the paper yellowed around the edges. There was a quivering in her fingers as she grasped the old parchment.

Raven blew away the strands of hair falling over her eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, intently focused on reading a particular passage of text.

Spirit Isle
The Spirit Isle is the realm where the spirits live. It is connected to our world, Ever Sanctum, by the Sacred Tree of Wisdom, that is found at the heart of the spirit realm. Only children at the age of fourteen can undergo a ritual to enter the Spirit Isle in order for them to bond with a compatible spirit.

"That tree again." Raven muttered to herself. She took out a tiny brown book from the pocket of her night dress, and scribbled a little note. "It was there when I died. Something happened at my baptism, and now this."

"Do I really have to wait until I am fourteen before I can enter the Spirit Isle? If that tree is what brought me here, then maybe I can go back to Earth through it. But why did it send me here? Could it be that I can only leave after I fulfill my purpose in this world?"

Turning to the next page, she found a torn piece of paper hidden inside. It looked as if it was torn off from another book, leaving most of the page missing. The text printed on it was not in the common language, causing her to be unable to recognize what it was. The words were written in a reverse cursive script, with what looked like letters joined together.

Is it another language of this world? How do you read it? Who placed it here?

Raven compared the unknown inscriptions with some of the foreign languages she had found while reading in the library. Initially, she had thought that the English language existed in this world since everyone spoke to her in English.

However, as time went by, she began to notice that it's not actually English that is being spoken to her, but rather, whatever is being heard or read by her was automatically translated into a language she understood in her mind. This ability was limited to only the common language, Eir, and it faded away the more she learned about it. She had a faint intuition that it had something to do with the tree, to get her used to the world and its inhabitants, but so far it had proven useful.

Without thinking further, Raven continued searching for answers. The night went on, until Raven could no longer continue to read. She had hardly begun drifting off to sleep when she heard a fluttering of wings above her, and saw a bird circling through the air.

Dressed in a pretty coat of shiny black feathers, the bird examined her from its resting place on top of a stack of books on the table, its eyes as black as coal.

'They will never understand.'

The crow shook out her feathers and uttered a sad, harsh cry.

'They don't need to.' Raven crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back on her chair. 'I'm fine the way I am now.'

'Lies.' It cawed indignantly.

'You don't know that.'

'Lies, lies, lies!'

The crow flapped its wings as it clawed at Raven's notes in agitation. Its black feathers scatter along with the tattered pieces of paper.

'We are one and the same, I know you just as well as you know yourself.'

Raven kept quiet, unable to mutter a response. With its beady dark eyes, the crow stared at Raven before it released a sigh.

'Remember where you came from.'

In wake of its last words, the crow spread its wings and disappeared in a cloud of wispy, black smoke.

Raven opened her eyes, and stretched from her seat on her chair. She turned her eyes to the desk and found that not one thing was out of place. Everything was exactly as she had left it, piled and placed away from her notes spread haphazardly on the surface.

The oil lamp that she had set upon retiring was burning low. She had stayed up for too long. Raven looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the library, confirming that it was only two in the morning and decided that it was time to go back lest she was caught by one of the maids in the manor.

From then on, on the nights when she couldn't fall asleep or woke up from a particularly bad dream; Raven would sneak outside and hide in the library, to which she spent her time researching about the world she now lived in and of the deity who brought her here.

As the seasons changed and ushered in the fresh blossoms of spring, three years had passed. Seated on the same chair as years before, Raven sketched out a flock of blackbirds perched above a barren tree, the same as the one in her memories before birth.

She had just finished shading the whole drawing when the clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight, abruptly reminding her that she needed to wake up early to prepare for the arrival of her new governess. In a hurry, she arranged all the books and scrolls on their respective shelves, and carefully folded her drawing and shoved it in her tiny pocket of her nightdress.

Raven had put out her oil-lamp beforehand, weaving in and out of the shadows in the moonlit corridor; abruptly stopping when she heard footsteps behind her. She looked back to see a faint light coming from the other corridor.

In a split second, she hid herself behind a knight statue, holding her breath to prevent the person from noticing her presence. She took a quick peek to see a tall man, stepping out of a painting. Her eyes widened as she recognized his familiar features.

Viktor. He was covered in a reddish substance. It was splattered all over his clothes, skin and even dying parts of his hair in a deep, dark red-brown.

The painting acting as a door, revealed a hidden passageway. From her spot, Raven couldn't make out what lied beyond the blanket of darkness. Most likely, it led underground. The basement perhaps, if the manor had one.

Cautiously, Raven crept up the stairs while Viktor closed the passageway. She quickly reached her bedroom, opened the door and locked it shut. The oil-lamp was placed on the bedside table and the drawing she had made beforehand was left inside the bottom drawer.

Lying awake on the bed, she watched the light flickering through the crack underneath her door until it eventually faded as her father crossed the floor and entered his shared bedroom with his wife.

As it turns out, she's not the only one keeping a secret.