Page 49 of Embers to Flames

Where the Raven Witches weave night into pillows,

Three trials they cast, with caution and dread,

For those who seek truths better left unsaid.

First is the Trial of Sight, where darkness prevails,

Seekers must navigate through haunting tales.

The Witches watch with eyes like coal,

For one must see no evil to purify the soul.

Next is the Trial of Sound, silence deep and hollow,

Echoes of secrets, too harrowing to follow.

The Witches listen with ears sharp as knives,

To hear no evil, one must quiet their lives.

Last is the Trial of Speech, where words are a snare,

Speak no evil or be caught in despair.

The Witches’ lips are sealed with a spell,

For truths spoken aloud can unleash hell.

Heed these trials, seeker, with heart brave and steeled,

For only through them, shall the hidden be revealed.

The Raven Witches guard knowledge like a trove,

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, in the cove.

My hands strain under the weight of the scroll and book as I lift my gaze to meet Lord Phirel’s. My heart races, knowing I must brave the challenging trials if I want to uncover the truth of my existence.

“Seekers often undergo intensive preparation, training their minds, bodies, and spirits before undertaking such endeavors,” advises Lord Phirel

I scoff and shake my head, dismissing the idea. “Time is not a luxury I have,” I reply firmly. With a careful hand, I unroll the aged parchment to reveal a detailed map of the Endia Territory. Lord Phirel leans forward, his finger pointing to a small dot just north of our current location but obscured by a terrain of mountains between us. “The temple lies here,” he explains, tracing a path that leads around the mountains. “Follow this route and you will find the Witches. Complete their trials and they will reveal what you seek.” As he steps back, Phirel’s round frame sinks into his chair once more. “Butbeware, if you fail... the consequences will be dire. These trials test both darkness and enlightenment, shaping you into a being worthy of the truth you desire.”

The map tremors in my hands as I consider Lord Phirel’s ominous words. Though the trials fill me with trepidation, my desire to uncover the truth about my past overwhelms any fears. I carefully roll up the aged parchment, tucking it into my leather satchel beside the heavy tome of poetry.

“Thank you for your guidance, My Lord.” I should set out at first light,” I say. Lord Phirel offers an approving smile, his wrinkled hand returning to his beard.

“Since we have some free time today, why don’t we take a stroll through the city?” Theo suggests. I readily agree, wanting to savor these last moments of peace before the challenges that await me. We make our way down the winding cobblestone path towards the city market. Even from a distance we can see the colorful banners and smell the enticing aromas wafting from the restaurants.

The marketplace is bustling with various vendors who call out to us. Their carts display vibrant fruits, rich woven fabrics, and intricate wood carvings. Theo and I pause at a quaint bakery, and he treats us to a triple-berry pie, the flaky crust melting in my mouth. My nerves settle as we lose ourselves in the hypnotic chaos of the market.

Theo suddenly pauses, entranced by the display of goods laid out before him by the skilled blacksmith. Rows of gleaming swords and axes catch his eye, their sharp edges glinting in the sunlight.

I continue to a jeweler’s stand close by, admiring the craftsmanship of the glittering gems and metals spun into elegant necklaces and bracelets. A particular necklace draws my gaze—a delicate silver chain with a pendant of carved black stone in the shape of a raven’s head.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, reaching out to run my fingers over the smooth curves of the raven’s beak and feathers etched into the stone.

The jeweler follows my gaze and smiles. “It suits you, Princess” The elderly man’s wrinkled face creases further as he grins. “Would you like to take a closer look?” He lifts the necklace reverently from its velvet case and starts to place it around my neck. His wrinkled hands tremble as he fumbles with the clasp of the necklace. Just as he goes to close it, Theo’s hand shoots out and grasps the old man’s wrist.

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