Page 97 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
I look at Grim. He bares his teeth.
I give the signal.
We move as one, a black ripple through the trees. The shift is instant—half-wings, half-legs, claws and fangs, and bloodlust. It’s pure and clean, an eruption of power that’s as natural as breathing.
I hit the first man in the chest, driving him back into a tree so hard the bark explodes. His ribs collapse under my grip. He dies with a grunt, no time for a scream. I rip out his heart and drop it in the snow, just to see the color. It’s almost beautiful.
Grim tackles the second, rolling him to the ground and tearing out his throat with a single, savage bite. The blood sprays across my face, hot and fresh. For a second, I want to howl.
Grim does, a war cry that’s still more monster than man.
Talon and Onyx flank the rest, moving in perfect sync. Onyx grabs a man by the legs, lifts him overhead, and snaps his spine across his knee like a stick. Talon shoves his knife into another’s eye, then yanks it free, blood and brain matter misting the air. He wipes the blade on the dead man’s cloak, then smiles at me like we just shared a joke.
The last two try to run, but Sable and Rune are already on them. Sable trips his prey with a sweep of his foot, then rolls the man over and straddles his chest, pinning his arms with his knees. He leans in close, whispering something. I can’t hear what, but the man pisses himself before Sable slits his throat, slow and careful.
Rune toys with his target, slashing at the man’s arms and legs, carving shallow lines until the ground is striped with red. He hums as he works, a soft, strange tune that reminds me of lullabies. When the man finally collapses, Rune just wipes his blade clean and steps back, admiring the artistry of it.
It’s over in seconds. The clearing is a mess of bodies, blood, and steaming viscera. We stand above it, panting, hearts racing, every sense screaming with victory.
“For Raisa,” I say, my voice barely more than a growl. It means more than victory, more than blood, more than freedom. It’s a vow.
We belong to her, and the world is going to have to learn to live with that. The curse is gone, but the power is real, and it’s never tasted better.
Onyx wipes the blood from his hands, then claps me on the shoulder.
“You’re getting slow,” he says.
Grim laughs, a rumbling, rusty sound. “Next time, I want the first one.”
Talon shrugs, sheathing his knife. “There won’t be a next time. Word will spread.”
Sable crouches next to the man he killed, poking at the exposed muscle with a curious finger. “You think Raisa will let us keep one?” he asks. “For decoration?”
Bran rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You’re sick, Sable.”
Rune stands apart, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “She’ll want to know we’re coming back,” he says. “We should go before she worries.”
We don’t argue. We never do, not when it matters.
I lead the way out of the clearing, feeling the old hunger replaced by something sweeter—a sense of purpose, maybe, or just the knowledge that we’ve finally won.
The castle is waiting. She’s waiting.
We move together, a single, perfect animal, and for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of what comes next.
Not even a little.
We fly the lastmile to the castle, a flight of shadow streaking over fields and frozen streams. The air is so cold it burns, but nothing can dull the heat in my chest or the wild sounds of my brothers as we bank right and wheel above the ramparts.
The gates are open, the guards at their posts, but they don’t view us with the same terror as before. I never thought I’d see it: respect, not fear, on the faces of the men who once hunted and hated us.
We land in the courtyard, seven black ravens shifting to men in a ripple of magic and muscle.
My feet hit the flagstones first, and I stretch my arms overhead, savoring the pull of skin over bone. My brothers shed their bird shapes beside me, each in their own way. Onyx in silence, Talon with a cocky roll of his shoulders, Sable with a full body shake that sends his hair wild. Bran and Rune look at each other and grin, a silent joke only they share. Grim just cracks his neck, already scanning the towers, the walls, the sky.
We walk in together, heads high. The staff scatter before us, but only to make room, not out of fear. I catch a glimpse of a kitchen maid peeking from a side door, her cheeks bright with curiosity. A stableboy leans on a pitchfork and actually smiles when Sable winks at him.
The world is different now, tilted on a new axis. We’re not the enemy anymore. We’re legends.
