by B B Reed
“Unworthy…”
Her shoulders tensed, expecting a rotting claw to grope for her. The entity’s empty gaze went right through her and it shuffled along, passing her as she stepped out of its way. Misty wisps of the ghostly form pulled away as it passed, its image warping towards her light source. The gemstone’s surface shimmered until the apparition wandered too far away. Halena’s eyebrows raised with surprise. She approached the ghost again, holding the stone out and watched its light pull at its spiritual fibers once more. The muscles in her arm seized, the shadowy serpent coiling down the length.
The stone hungers? Yes, it drinks on the unseen.
Halena clapped her hand over her wrist, gritting through another surge of mocking laughter to keep her arm down, muscles burning and twitching, “No! I need to return the crest first… Wait just a little longer…”
She fought against her arm, straining to keep it pinned down to her side until the passenger stopped resisting. Once she caught her breath, Halena looked back to the large tombstone the raven perched upon, watching other ghostly forms wander between the headstones. Tucking the soul stone away, she pulled the silver crest out and approaches the monolith. Her violet catseyes scanned around for somewhere to place the small emblem on. The blue-eyed raven cried again as she stepped closer to its perch, hopping down to dive at her. Halena jerked back to protect herself, dropping he crest to the ground. The bird scooped the silver trinket up in its talons, flying up and away.
“No! Get back here, I need that!”
The raven flew to a low-hanging tree branch and she crept closer towards the animal to get the crest back. The raven dropped the crest in some curled branches and Halena readied to swipe it back with her hand raised. The curled branches twitched, making her blood run cold as they come to life. Another curled branch reached over to hold up the crest in appraisal, a dry voice whispering, “Proof of a concord kept.”
Halena backed away as the tree moved forward. The curled branches were in fact bony fingers and the creaking form approaching her was not full with leaves. A mantle of raven feathers draped down from the slouched shoulders of the lanky being slinking from the shadows. No face could be made out in the ragged garb of feathers and cloth, except a large curved protrusion of bleach-white wood hanging out from underneath the hood, resembling a bird’s beak. Surely, this being would have towered over the woman were it not hunched and crooked. Her hands started to shake and she maintained a safe berth from the decrepit specter as it lumbered into the moonlight. It lowered the silver crest to address her with a hiss, “Why do you come bearing the family seal?”
Halena’s voice caught in her throat, then finally sputtered out, “She—Lady Ravenwood… Told me to return the crest to these grounds for her.”
“Ahhh…” The shade hummed with eerie delight, folding its bony hands over the silver crest and circled around her. Its dry voice was coarse with cynicism, “The family continues its duty to the Raven Lords after all.”
Halena turned with the wraith in its predatory stalking, “Who are you? Why do you haunt this place?”
“You stand upon the resting grounds of the family, blessed by the Raven Lords. You intrude on our domain.” The feathered shade answered, words dry and hollow. The cries of ravens in the distance echoed from the surrounding woods as they gathered on the branches.
“Then why are there so many lost spirits that wander here? What happened to them? Were they killed by the Ravenwoods?” Halena balled her hands into fists to steady her nerves.
“They were once allies to the family’s cause and judgement had been passed on them. Unable to accept their duty, they wander without peace.” The shade rasped, then gestured to the enormous monolith towering over, “Only the worthy servants of the Raven Lords may know peace in the afterlife when they keep fealty to us. Else they are prey to the monstrosities from the things betwixt, the Veil, and wander in a tormented existence.”
The wraith slinked closer, its empty black eyes peering deep into her, “Those who bring the crest seek supplication, to serve the family in its tiresome task. Is this not true?”
Halena swallowed a lump in her throat, “Y-Yes… I wish to serve Lady Jeanne in her cause. I want to protect people from the things of nightmares.”
Her eyes darted away from the grim visage to the gathering mass of birds fluttering to trees and perch atop headstones, their presence weighing ever heavier on her nerves. An inquisitive rumble came from the shade, still studying the intruder from behind its beak-shaped mask, “Sincere words… Yet troubling. You know the ways of spirits and their haunts… You are touched already by the Veil.”
Halena’s jaw set together, nostrils flaring as she fought back the black serpent around her arm, “What if I am? I still wish to aid Lady Ravenwood with my skills.”
“To what end? You insist benevolence and you reek of wild magick that seems so familiar…” The shade tilted its head.
“That’s…” She hesitated, biting her lip. How did the specter pick it up so quickly? Its conscious behavior pulled her nerves taut, the intelligence exhibited by the apparition unlike anything she had encountered before.
“That’s because I am a witch.”
It tipped its head in acknowledgement, “Ahhh… Witchcraft. Wild, pure, and forever free sorcerers of old, yet one driven to cleanse the nightmares that seep into this realm? Very unique.”
The entity leaned close, hand reaching out with a bony finger towards Halena’s face, a single digit missing from its hand. She jerked away, “Is that so hard to believe?”
A hiss rattled from under the ghostly hood, “There are secrets nested in you. A deep hunger evident in all witches…”
Halena covered her ears, the cacophony of screeching cries swelling from the gathered audience of black birds. Her tendons ached to move by the traveler’s influence, her hand slipping into her bag. She bit down on her lip, gripping onto the frustration coursing through her nerves, and grabbed her own wrist to keep it in place. Through her wrestling, the feathered revenant watched the witch fight against an unseen presence. It slinked close, stooping down to fold her dark bangs up with its desiccated fingers. Her eyes widened in panic, the crimson branding around her eyes revealed in the moonlight, words lost as she endured her struggle against her dark passenger.
“Two-spirited, light and dark vying for control over a single body.” The wraith mused aloud, letting the witch’s bangs fall from its fingers, “A very dangerous combination, yet unsurprising of your kind.”
Halena plead through her teeth, “Please, let me do this… So nobody else has to be their own jailor.”
The struggle for control subsided and she heard the black serpent hiss, its length uncoiling from around her muscles. Halena panted in exhaustion, her grip loosening from her wrist, and her shoulders lowered. She looked up to the feathered ghost with desperation, “Let me help Lady Ravenwood…”
The wraith circled around Halena in muted observation, “Lady Ravenwood is a fire that burns… too bright. Yet, she insists on pushing our wavering patience by allowing a witch to tread these grounds. How that woman singes us.”
Another inquisitive hum of consideration, “Yet few can muster the willpower to resist the blackest of spirits except for the family itself. Do you believe that will not waver in service to the Raven Lords?”
She let her hands drop to her sides, righting herself from her hunched posture, “I have kept this thing leashed for eight long years… I refuse to let it get the better of me now.”
“Time will tell.” The shade answered with dryness in their words, “The land is rife with ancient wounds that allow corrupt and eldritch beings to bleed over and feast on the life that courses through your world. Our kind seek to contain these dark spirits that encroach where they do not belong. Should you break this covenant, the Raven Lords will not protect your soul from being consumed by the darkness that lies beyond the Veil.”
Its bony fingers reached into its feathered mantle to pluck a sab
le black quill from its folds, holding it out to Halena, “Upon the blood-soaked quill of the raven can the pact be sealed. Do you accept?”
Her eyes danced down to the feather, the gravity of Lady Ravenwood’s offer beginning to sink in. The noblewoman was right about her family’s long history in fighting the dark beasts of the night and more questions bubbled to the surface. Her offer was not just a mere occupational position, but a commitment to something larger than herself. It made Halena’s heart flutter faster, a mixed sensation of dread and pride in undertaking Lady Ravenwood’s duty alongside her. She reached for the knife in her bag, pulling the lustrous blade from its sheath and holding her bare hand out over the feather. The witch inclined her head at the spirit, “I accept the duty of the Raven Lords. I will walk in the darkness from which these beings are born and banish them.”
She inhaled a deep breath, casting a cursory glance to her hand before she wrapped her fingers around the blade and squeezing. Her palm stung as the blade bit into her flesh, letting her blood ooze to the surface. Holding it over the feather, three healthy drops of her blood stain the feather before the spirit turned the feather away. Smoke rose from the stained quill, a thick black cloud rising. The shade raised its hands up in offering to the monolithic headstone and the feather’s shape unravels. The black smog took the shape of a raven and the smoky wings spread out to let it soar into the rough face of the great tombstone. It disappeared, the vapors fading away quickly as a dim light shimmered over the contours of the monolith. The robed ghost peered back to Halena, “It is done.”
The witch watched the spectacle with awe, “May I ask you something? Has Lady Ravenwood worked with witches before?”
The wraith’s form tore open, no answer given. Its shadowy fibers dispersed into a group of black birds fluttering away and screeching as they return to the surrounding trees. Halena shuffled away and sighed with disappointment, “A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would have sufficed.”
Her eyes scanned around the trees for any signs of the blue-eyed raven that led her to the grounds. The flock had dispersed with the wraith, leaving the branches void of activity. She only heard the whispering groans of the wayward failures around her. Halena sheathed her knife and returned it to her bag, covering the glow of the soul stone quickly before temptation to use it set in. Halena clenched her wounded hand shut, focusing on the stinging pain. The shallow cut gradually knit back together as she made her journey up the path until the burning faded away. The warm, welcoming light of Dorian’s lantern illuminated the last stretch of forest path to the iron gate. A relieved smile curled on the witch’s lips as she came up to the gate, pulling on the latch. It would not budge and she tested it again. Halena looked out to the dark yard and shouted, “Is anyone there?”
She grabbed the bars and rattles the gate to make noise, “I’m finished! Please, unlock the gate!”
The witch rattled the gate again and waited for any kind of response. Crunching footsteps on the gravel path drew a soft gasp of relief from her lips. The glimmer of eyes in the distance caught the lantern light, soon the rest of Dorian’s imposing form illuminating as he arrived. Halena lowered her hands from the gate, waving to get the butler’s attention, “Mister Dorian! I’ve finished Lady Ravenwood’s task. Would you please let me out?”
No answer was given as he approached, standing before the gate to look Halena over through the bars, “It seems you have, though I advise you to stop shouting. Your voice could wake the neighbors in the next county.”
Halena glowered, yet bit her tongue. Dorian’s moustache spread in the faintest smirk, something she thought impossible, and he pulled the keyring out of his pocket. The latch was released, and Halena stepped out, inclining her head, “Thank you.”
Dorian pulled the lantern pole out of its iron boot, “No, thank you, Miss Maris. My Lady will be relieved to have you with us.”
Her smile returned and she followed the giant manservant with her chin up, though Dorian offered little more than silence while they walked back to the mansion. His enormous hand opened the door for Halena, ushering her inside and led her back to the main hall. In the corner of the room, Lady Ravenwood stood over a table, reading documents spread upon its surface while cradling a thin, long-necked pipe in her good hand. The noblewoman had forgone her formal attire, a soft royal blue robe hanging off her powerful frame and arm tucked in a silken sling. The woman’s dark eyes lifted towards Halena, a satisfied smile spreading on her face, “Our wandering witch returns successful?”
Halena inclined her head, though her heart panged with anxiousness at Lady Ravenwood’s greeting. She must have known this whole time. Her voice wavered to hold its professional calmness, “Yes… I-I did as you asked, Lady Ravenwood.”
The noblewoman beamed with delight and beckoned her guest over, “Come, I believe I owe you an explanation after putting you through the trouble.”
She joined Lady Ravenwood near the fire, remaining quiet as the woman took a long puff on her pipe. Lady Jeanne sighed, a fine plume of saccharine smog venting through her nose, “I apologize for the deception, Halena. It was the only way I could know if you were truly on my side of affairs. Magickal arts are dangerous and finding people who wield them well are rarer yet.”
Lady Ravenwood turned to face Halena, gesturing to her with the thin mouthpiece of her pipe, “You stand here now because you passed the judgement of the Raven Lords.”
Halena tilted her head, “So you’re saying he tested me. That’s what the blood pact was for?”
“Even I do not fully understand the ways of the Raven Lords and their servants,” Jeanne shrugged her shoulder, “Yet they protect us from the nasty creatures of the night and from ourselves. Magick is powerful, corrupting, addictive, and always attracts entities hungry for that power.”
The witch took a moment to digest Lady Jeanne’s words, then probed further, “Lady Ravenwood, you have yet to tell me what side I’m on for this job. You make it sound like there’s some war happening.”
“Without a doubt, right under the nose of Arram itself.” Lady Jeanne nodded, taking a long drag from her pipe. She let out a foggy sigh, “You’ll find out soon enough the task before us, my dear.”
Lady Ravenwood waved her hand in a dismissive flourish, “I shall explain more in the morning. You’ve earned your stay here. Inka can show you to your room.”
A soft gasp echoed from the hallway and Inka’s blue head peered around the corner. Lady Jeanne stepped in front of Halena to return to her papers on the table, “You need to be sharper than that if you think you can eavesdrop, Inka. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
The bookish scholar stepped from around the corner of the entrance to the grand hall, hands folded in front of her waist. Halena nodded, taking her leave, “Yes. Thank you for the hospitality, Lady Ravenwood.”
She crossed the floor of the grand hall to join her escort. With Inka leading her away, Halena followed her while taking in the effects of Lady Jeanne’s décor, as well as taking mental note for navigation through the seemingly endless halls.
“I know it’s a little dizzying at first. I honestly don’t know what I would do with all of this space in a home of my own, yet Jeanne somehow finds use for it all.” Inka said with a shrug, and looked back at Halena, “It took me two months before I figured it out.”
“How did you manage until it became familiar?” Halena asked, keeping pace behind her.
“Napkins don’t make good maps to the bathroom, to say the least.” Inka giggled, rounding the corner in the hall’s bend to the left. Coming up to the first door on the right, she turned the brass handle and pushed it open, gesturing for her charge to go in, “Here we are, take a look around.”
The witch stepped inside the threshold, quickly making comparisons to the dozens of musty inn rooms she had lived in over the years. The walls were the same cozy shade of red decorating the hallways, sans fleur patterns. An armoire held post on the left wall, doors drawn open and empty. A full bed was made w
ith simple white sheets and a tall window with curtains drawn and a desk in front of it. She remained hushed as she took it all in, “This is a guest room to Lady Ravenwood?”
Inka inclined her head, “She wishes her guests to be as comfortable as she is when they come to visit. Of course, within reason. Her master bedroom puts all the other guest rooms to shame, I’m afraid.”
Halena let out a short laugh, looking back to Inka, “Hah, I can’t imagine. What about your room? Where do you stay?”
Inka’s finger pointed upwards, “Second floor, down the hall. It’s not much different from this room, but I wouldn’t ask more of Jeanne.”
Halena set her bag down on the desktop, “How long have you worked for Lady Ravenwood, Inka?”
“It’s been just over a year and a half since Lady Jeanne took me in to work for her, but it certainly doesn’t feel like that. Time passes so quickly.” Inka answered with a shrug, “Anyway, is there anything I can get you to help settle in?”
Turning back to Inka, Halena shook her head, “Not at all. Lady Ravenwood’s generosity has given me plenty.”
The bookish scholar beamed and pointed to the armoire, “There should be clean night gowns in there for when you retire for the evening, so don’t be afraid to use one.”
Halena raised her eyebrows and stepped over to open one of the drawers in the armoire, seeing neatly folded white gowns inside. Her cheeks warmed and she quickly closed the drawer, “I’ll… keep that in mind.”
Inka stepped back through the doorway, “If you think of anything else, just ask.”
She flashed a warm smile and left down the hallway. The witch lingered by the door, watching the sapphire waves of Inka’s hair until they disappeared around the corner. Halena retreated back and closed the door to survey her room, allowing herself a moment to cool her heated cheeks. The witch kicked her muddy boots off by the door and got comfortable in her new dwellings.