Page 94 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
“I wish for them to live,” I say.
The magic doesn’t just answer—it erupts. It’s a howl, a storm, a riot in my veins.
The air in the throne room goes thin and heavy at once, the pressure squeezing every chest, pulling at every muscle.
The guards on the balcony sway, some clutching their heads, their mouths open in silent screams.
My father’s lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl, not fear exactly, but the closest he’ll ever come.
I raise my hands, shaking, and aim them at the broken line of my brothers.
“You’re free,” I say, a command that shreds the air.
The chains binding them shatter with a sound like a hundred bells dropped from a cathedral. Metal shrieks, links flying everywhere, ricocheting off marble and flesh.
Half the guards nearest them are knocked flat, skidding across the stone in a tangle of armor and limbs.
My brothers stagger, every one of them blinking in disbelief, blood dripping from wrists that are already healing. My magic pours into them, blue and black and wild, knitting skin, resetting broken bones, filling their lungs with air that tastes like hope.
I feel the curse break—not in a neat snap, but in a million tiny fractures. The old magic splits and recoils, fighting for a momentbefore it gives up and dissolves. The scars on their bodies fade, all but the ones they want to keep.
Every single one of my brothers looks up, their eyes blazing, and I know they feel it too. It’s the first taste of freedom they’ve had in nineteen years.
My father feels it too. He lunges for me with his dagger raised high, desperate and wild. The madness and fury in his eyes show him for what he truly is—not human, not even a monster, but a kind of evil beyond saving.
I brace myself for pain, for death, for the oblivion I’ve always half-wished for, already grieving an eternity without the seven men who rule my whole world.
But they move faster than I ever could.
Rune, Grim, and Shade hit my father—no, not my father, not anymore—all at once.
Rune grabs the king’s wrist and twists. Bones snap with a sickening pop. The dagger clatters to the floor.
Grim drives his own stolen blade up, straight into the king’s side. He grins, murder etched across his face, and twists the knife. “You will never take her from us.”
Shade is the last. He moves with a grace that’s almost gentle, almost loving, as he wraps an arm around his neck and wrenches, hard. There’s a sickening crack, and the king collapses, his eyes rolling up as blood pours from his mouth.
They let his body drop as if it’s nothing.
Shade wipes his hands on the king’s cloak, then turns to me, something almost like a smile on his lips.
The room is silent except for the moans of dying guards.
I’m so lightheaded I nearly fall, but Onyx is there to catch me. His hands are gentle, one cradling my head, the other steadying my waist.
He lowers me to the floor, and the rest of them crowd around, their hands everywhere—checking, soothing, trying to put me back together with touch alone.
Sable presses his forehead to mine, his breathing wild. “You crazy, crazy girl,” he whispers, his voice thick with love and terror.
Talon pulls me into his lap, his arms banded tight around my ribs. His chest rumbles as he purrs, the sound low and endless.
Rune kneels, clutching my hand so hard it aches. He leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “You did it,” he says, and the awe in his voice is a living thing.
Bran, tears streaking down his face, tucks my hair behind my ear and holds my gaze as if he’s terrified to look away. “You saved us,” he murmurs, as if he still can’t believe it.
Grim nuzzles my neck, biting lightly at my collarbone. “Ours,” he growls, and I shiver.
Shade crouches last, his eyes dark and steady. He doesn’t touch me at first—just looks, as if he’s memorizing every scar, every freckle, every broken piece. Then he leans down and kisses my mouth, slow and deliberate, a seal on the new world we just made.
