Page 20 of Darkened Wings
“Very well. The witch cursed the group of hiyas for feasting on her shifter child. She cursed them to look different from the rest of us. We’ve already talked about most of the physical differences. She also cursed their offspring. Crows have far fewer babies than we ravens do and, as time has gone on, they are smaller and smaller in size.”
The class fell silent after a few gasps. I had never heard this version of the story. In fact, I’d only heard fractured pieces of the history my whole life and only when I pressed my parents for information.
The lecture went on, but mostly it was the professor showing different illustrations of the story that had emerged over the years of ravens and the Academy of Ravens. Professor Pike even told us that she had drawn the last slide. It was the most profound of them all, but the scene with some of the crows sitting together along a branch while the others ate chilled me to the bone and caused a shudder to ripple down my spine.
It reminded me of the crows I saw before I entered this school.
Class went by fast. I hadn’t even taken many notes because I was enthralled with the story and the illustrations. It was fascinating, all of it.
The bell rang, and I made a move to leave, faster than the others, out of pure fear of being late. But as I took the stairs, the girl with the red, curly hair stood in front of me. She said nothing but cocked her head sideways, staring me down. The other students filed out, and she allowed some to walk around her. I tried to follow them, but she stopped me, always cocking her head to one side or another, but her dark-brown eyes never leaving me.
My heart thrummed overtime in my chest as my breaths became shallow.
It was my second day of classes and I had enough issues with life in general without an enemy.
“I need to get through,” I told her with my best commanding voice.
A slight smile grew on her face, but she stood still, not moving until the last student had left the room.
“I need to get to class.” I was no good at confrontation. I looked over Jasmine’s shoulder, and my heart dropped to see that the professor was still there but was doing nothing to help.
No one could help me without the risk of ruining their status at this academy.
I knew it.
They knew it.
I was on my own.
“You need to toughen up, Gwen. This is the Academy of Ravens, not the bunny academy.”
Wait, was there a bunny academy? I needed to visit there.
As Jasmine continued to stare me down, courage built inside me. There was no one coming to save me. No knight in shining armor or even a friend. I had to save myself. “Get the hell out of my way before I make you move.”
The words came from my mouth, but it was my raven who spoke through me. She did that, took over in times of trouble and when I was too scared to speak up for myself.
She was fierce and brave, so fierce I was scared to let her out sometimes.
Jasmine moved as the color drained from her face. Professor Pike pretended not to see the exchange, but she peeked at us more than once.
My raven spoke to Jasmine once more as I passed her. “Make sure you don’t get in my way again.”
I walked to my next class with my head held a little higher, my shoulders not as slumped. No longer did I look at the floor while I was making my way through the pulses of whispers and snickers.
While I sat through the next class, Raven Myths and Lore, I tried to listen intently, but this professor taught right out of the syllabus materials. There was no deviation. He read from the damned thing word for word, only pausing for a question or to get a sip of water.
I could guess the rest of the history of crows and ravens, but I wanted more, craved the knowledge, hungered for the full story. It was the story of me after all. The story of my parents and maybe, hopefully, the histories would give me a taste of why my parents had hidden all of this from me, or gave me the bare basics of the tales.
What were they hiding or rather, what were they hiding from?
I knew there were hunters, those my parents said would hunt me for my wings alone, but staying under the radar, posing as a human, and hardly ever shifting had saved me from them. In fact, I’d never even seen a hunter.
My father said I would know them by their eyes. Raven hunters had silver eyes that glowed in the darkness.
From what I’d experienced so far, my kind, the students around me, were more dangerous and cunning than a hunter or even a crow for that matter.
And I was supposed to believe that crows were evil.
