Page 93 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
I see the wild panic behind Sable’s smirk, and the way Talon’s hand twitches in the shackles as if he could break them throughwill alone. I see Bran’s jaw clenched so tight his teeth might shatter, Rune trembling, and the twin trails of blood running down Grim’s ashen face. I see Onyx, barely clinging to life.
But it’s Shade I can’t look away from.
He’s on his knees, arms bound behind him, shoulders pulled so far back it’s a miracle nothing’s broken. His head is bent at a strange angle, black hair slick with blood, but his eyes are locked on mine, steady and unflinching. He doesn’t blink. Not once. It’s as if he’s holding me up through pure love, willing me to make the choice to save myself.
I swallow, my throat thick with bile.
My father is still talking, monologuing about destiny and legacy and the price of power, but I tune him out. I know, deep in my bones, that this is the end.
All those times he locked me in the tower to keep me away from my brothers—my ravens—was never because he was afraid they would kill me for what he did to them. He was afraid they’d stop him from destroying me. And he’ll kill them now, one by one in front of me, savoring every drop of terror and helplessness, to ensure that doesn’t happen.
And then, when I’m hollowed out and ruined, he’ll lock me back in that tower and keep me there until he’s ready to rip me open and pluck my soul away, using my body and my magic to contain his will.
Unless I stop him.
The magic stirs in my blood, a coil of smoke and lightning. It’s never been so clear, so loud, so eager to be used. It howls at the bars of my ribs, gnawing at my heart, hungry for violence. It wants to break the world open and rain fire down from above.
I look back at the men who gave me everything.
Onyx, my silent sentinel, who kissed the tears off my cheeks without asking what caused them, the only person I’ve ever felt truly safe with.
Sable, all sharp edges and stupid jokes, but the only one who truly understood my pain when the world went black.
Talon, who watched over me at night when I couldn’t sleep, who taught me what it was to hunt and kill and feel alive in the aftermath.
Bran, gentle and sweet and smarter than everyone in this room, even if he’d deny it until the day he died.
Rune, his fingers and tongue always searching for secrets in my skin, but who never took what I didn’t offer freely.
Grim, who saw the ugliest parts of me and loved them harder for it.
Shade, who gave me a reason to live when I didn’t know I needed one.
I look at them and I know, with an awful, perfect clarity, that there is nothing I wouldn’t give for them. My heart. My body. My future. Even my life.
And I see in their faces that they’d make the same choice, if they could.
I draw a slow, shaking breath and set my jaw.
My father sees the way my shoulders square, the way I no longer tremble. For the first time in my life, he looks nervous.
I close my eyes and find the raw, wild magic inside me. It’s a storm, alive and roaring, desperate to be loosed. I touch it, coax it forward, let it build until my skin vibrates with the force of it.
When I open my eyes again, the world is sharp as cut glass. The guards along the balcony raise their spears, uneasy. The ones at the brothers’ backs shift their feet, sensing something coming but not knowing what. Even my father steps closer, as if proximity alone can cow me.
“Do it,” he says, his voice tight with anticipation. “Make your choice, Raisa.”
I already did, the only choice that could be made.
It’s them. It’s always them, even unto death.
Dying is the easiest choice I’ve ever made, even if it hurts.
Sparks crackle at my fingertips as I let the magic thread through every inch of my body. My breath comes sharp and ragged, and every hair stands straight out from my skin.
I feel the seven of them in my blood, their souls a braided rope of need and fury and love, and I yank on it with everything I have left.
I don’t know how to do what I need, so I speak my wish to the forest, to the stars, and pray that something still listens.
