Mark of the Raven Page 4

  A moment later, she left the bare branch and flew toward the cabin. She landed on the ground a few feet away and hopped toward the decaying structure. On closer inspection, she could see there had been a fire, though not recently. The wood around the windows was charred and black. More areas of charring pockmarked the walls.

  Selene narrowed her eyes. Perhaps if she touched the cabin, she would understand what this place meant. She reached out her wingtip and brushed the side of the cabin. The dreamscape changed.

  The monochromatic world transformed to a vivid red. Fire burst from the cabin, accompanied by screams and cries for help. The screams grew higher in pitch as the flames roared and smoke streamed toward the night sky.

  The door opened, and a boy came flying out. He ran a couple of steps, then toppled to the ground. Seconds later, he pushed up on his knees and looked back. The skin across his right cheek was red and peeling, and his hair was singed around his face. His eyes watered and his face scrunched up. “No!” he screamed as he scrambled up and went back toward the cabin. “Mama! Papa!”

  Selene’s breath caught in her throat as she glanced back at the cabin. The screaming inside had stopped, and the smell of burnt flesh began to permeate the area.

  “No!” The boy ran as close as he could to the cabin, then held back as the flames roared into an inferno. He dropped to his knees, his glassy gaze on the cabin. “No,” he whispered. “You can’t leave me!”

  The fire continued to burn and parts of the roof crashed down, sending a wave of smoke and embers into the sky.

  Selene yanked her wing back, and the fire, smoke, and burnt smell disappeared. She stood again in the empty area, the dreamscape devoid of color. Petur sniffled behind her.

  Adrenaline coursed through her body, and her wings trembled at her sides. She slowly looked back at Petur. Now she understood where the scars across his face had come from. He wiped his eyes and stared at the cabin. “It was all my fault. I should have listened to you. I—I miss you both.”

  “It was Petur who burned his parents alive.”

  Selene jumped and glanced over to find her mother in raven form next to her.

  “This event has been both his guilt and his fear for many years, and both are easily manipulated. Watch and learn.”

  Her mother spread out her wings, and then gave them a hard thrust. The dreamscape changed along the wind from her wings. Fire sprang up all around them, devouring the black-and-white images.

  The adult Petur stood, his eyes wide. Her mother gave her wings another pump. The trees around the clearing caught fire as if they had been doused with oil.

  “Can you feel his fear?”

  Selene shivered and closed her eyes. Yes, somewhere deep inside of her where she was physically connected with Petur she could feel his fear growing by the second as the fire rushed forward, surrounding him.

  “The mind is a powerful thing. And so are dreams. Once you know what a person fears, you can manipulate their dreams. Terrify them enough and you can kill them with it.”

  Petur cried out in fright as the fire consumed everything around him, leaving only a ten-foot circle of bare ground around him.

  “But sometimes it is better to use guilt.” With another sweep of her wings, her mother made the fire disappear. The scorched cabin came back, along with the bare trees. “Watch.”

  There was a rustling noise inside the cabin. Petur stood at a distance, his face even more pale in the black-and-white world. Two figures emerged from the cabin, shuffling across the open space. Their faces were burnt and only bits of hair dotted the head of the shorter figure. Singed clothing hung from their bodies like grey burial clothes.

  “Why?” the shorter one rasped. “Why did you leave us?”

  “I—I—” Petur sputtered as he took a step back, his eyes so wide the whites could be seen and his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  “You did this to us,” the taller one said in a broken whisper. “We know.”

  “But I—” A choked cry sounded from Petur, like a rabbit pierced by an arrow.

  Selene turned away. She didn’t want to watch anymore.

  Her mother looked at her, then swished her wings and the dreamscape returned to its former gloomy appearance. Petur whimpered nearby, but Selene didn’t look at him. Ever since she was a little girl, she had felt sorry for the old gardener with his scarred face and droopy appearance. Now she knew what had caused his disfigurement.

  A sob filled her throat. He didn’t deserve this. His dreamscape was already dark and lonely without his past horrors revisiting him.

  Selene wanted to fly far away from this place, from Petur’s heartbreaking cries, and from her mother’s cold, callous look.

  “Come, Selene,” her mother said a moment later. “It is time we left this place.”

  “Yes, Mother,” she said, barely holding back the choke inside her throat.

  Selene followed her mother upward, away from the dark woods and lonely little scorched cabin, and away from the weeping man below. But she would never forget what she had seen here. It had torn a hole inside her heart.

  Selene gasped as she drew back into her own body.

  Her mother let go of Petur’s arm and sat back, her eyes trained on Selene. “It’s not easy the first time. The connections we make with the people we touch are powerful. It causes our hearts to open up to them, to feel for them. You must harden yourself to that, or else you will not be able to do what needs to be done.”

  “But why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did we visit that awful memory of Petur’s?” Her lip began to tremble, so Selene bit down in order to stop it.

  Her mother gave her a hard stare. “This is what we do. We discover people’s greatest secrets and fears. This is our ability—our gift. It is how we have been able to take care of our people and keep House Ravenwood safe for hundreds of years. What good would it be if we only walked through good dreams? We cannot use those. Fear, however, we can use. And secrets. Those are what people are willing to pay for.”

  “People pay us for that?”

  “Yes. We find information when we dreamwalk and we sell it.”

  This was how they used their gift? In a dark, twisted way, it made sense. And it made her stomach turn.

  Selene put on her steely gaze and swallowed the bile filling her throat. “I understand.” She didn’t want her mother to see how shaken she was.

  “It will take some time. Even I struggled at first.” Her mother brushed her hands across her loose black pants and rose to her feet. “But with practice, you will learn to distance your feelings for people, and manipulating dreams will become easier.”

  Selene stood and joined her, gripping her hands together. “But if we are doing this for our own people, what prevents us from growing cold toward them?”

  Her mother nodded. “That is a fine line we walk. It’s about control, Selene. You must control yourself. Imagine locking your heart up in a chest. You only let it out when you need to. No more, no less. I’ve watched you over the years. You are excellent at restraining yourself, unlike your sister Amara. That is why our family line must fall to you.”

  Her stomach quivered inside her and once again the overbearing weight of the Ravenwood family settled across her shoulders. The future of her family—of her people—rested on her.

  She swallowed. The future rested on her ability to manipulate the dreams of others.

  Mother glanced out the small window on the other side of the cabin. Petur scrunched up his face and moaned.

  Selene looked down at the old man. Was he still dreaming of his parents even though they had left his dreamscape? Mother didn’t seem to care.

  “Morning is coming. It is time we left.”

  Selene glanced up and noticed the first rays of light trickling through the dirty window.

  Mother led the way out of Petur’s small home. He moaned again as Selene walked through the doorway and closed the door softly behind her. The irony did
not escape her that though her mother was teaching her to use the family gift in order to help their people, she had no qualms about hurting those same people.

  When had her mother lost her heart?

  4

  Selene hit the dummy as hard as she could with her twin blades. Thwack. Thwack. Over and over she went through her routine until sweat poured across her body and her hair stuck to her face. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not run from the memories of the dreamscape from last night.

  How do I—smack—learn to—smack—control my heart?

  The darkness of the training cavern felt more stifling than comforting. Maybe she should have used the small outside area located in the inner bailey for her daily drills.

  She gave one last lunge, then hung her hands at her sides, her fingers barely wrapped around the hilts.

  Do I even want to control my heart? How do I help my people if I lock away my connection to them? Is this the only way to help our people?

  Do I want to become like Mother?

  “Selene.”

  Selene spun around. Amara stood in the archway, dressed in the dark training clothes, her sword at her side.

  Selene’s cheeks burned as she realized she had been so consumed with her thoughts and training that she never heard Amara enter the cavern. A first.

  Amara sauntered across the room, reminding Selene of the cats that occupied the stables. She stopped near the wall and leaned against the stone in a casual manner. But her eyes gave her away. There was a feverish glint in her dark brown gaze similar to the one their mother wore the night before. “So what is it like?”

  Selene turned back toward the dummy and slowly began her movements again.

  “The dreamwalking,” Amara said, a little more urgently.

  “It is . . . different.”

  “Different? How?”

  She paused, her swords held on either side of her body. How much should she tell her sister? Should she prepare Amara for what would happen when her own gifting came? Of what would be expected of her? Selene raised her right sword and swung hard at the dummy. She had a feeling Amara would have no problem manipulating dreams. She would do anything for Mother.

  “Was it hard to enter the dreamscape?”

  “No.”

  Amara scowled and looked away. “Are you really as gifted as Mother says you are?”

  Selene stared at the dummy. “Apparently so. But I still have much to learn.”

  Amara looked back, the scowl replaced with a smirk. “Then you don’t know everything.”

  “No, I don’t.” Selene raised her blades and with one swift movement, brought them together across the hay-stuffed canvas.

  “Will you be going back again tonight?”

  Selene stopped. Mother hadn’t said so, but she had a feeling they would be visiting Petur again, and this time she would be the one manipulating the dream. Or at least trying. “Probably.”

  Lock your heart away, Selene. Control it.

  Silence extended across the cavern.

  “You won’t tell me any more.” It was a statement, not a question from Amara.

  Selene glanced at her sister from the corner of her eye. They hardly looked alike. Selene had taken after their mother while Amara had taken after their father, back before his hair went grey. But out of the two girls, Amara was more like their mother than Selene was.

  Mother had said Selene had the control it would take to manipulate the dreamscape without being caught up in the feelings of the dreamer. But Amara had the drive to become the next Lady Ravenwood. She would do anything Mother told her and would work hard until she had perfected manipulating the dreamscape.

  Meanwhile, I’m questioning the very practice of our family dating back hundreds of years. Perhaps I am the weak link.

  Amara huffed and turned away, her shoulders and back rigid.

  Selene closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Why didn’t she tell Amara about the dreamscape, or about seeing Petur’s horrible past, or how Mother could manipulate it all with a brush of her wing?

  She swallowed and lifted up her swords and started her drills in earnest. As the answer came to her, she hit the dummy even harder until bits of hay came loose from the canvas fabric.

  Because I’m ashamed of what I saw. And I’m ashamed of what I’ll be asked to do next.

  “Do it.”

  Selene lifted her wings. As she did so, she could feel her connection to Petur’s dream, almost like strings on a marionette and she was the puppeteer. A tug here, a pull there, and she could manipulate everything around them.

  “Set the forest on fire like I showed you.”

  Selene glanced at Petur’s prone figure near the edge of the clearing. His fear was already growing and not a single spark had fallen. A thought struck her. Just how many times had Mother come here and practiced her gift on the old man?

  Selene clicked her beak together and swept her wings across the forest. An inferno rose with such speed and heat that her mother gave out a caw and sprang for the air.

  Selene never wanted to come here again. Perhaps if she proved to her mother that she was more than capable of controlling the dreamscape, she would not have to come here anymore.

  As the fire rose, so did Petur’s fear. She wanted to stop, but it wasn’t enough.

  Lock your heart away. She clamped her beak shut, willing away all emotion until all she felt was cold. Just when she was sure Petur would go wild with terror, she swept her wings forward and the fire disappeared. Before her mother could say anything, she flew upward, higher and higher until she broke through the dreamscape.

  Selene sat back and panted. A cold sweat had broken out across her body, seeping into her dark clothes. A shiver tore through her, and she wrapped her arms across her midsection.

  Her mother came to a moment later, slightly short of breath. “That was excellent work, Selene. Never has a Ravenwood been able to manipulate a dreamscape so quickly after receiving the gift. You are truly as talented as Rabanna. But . . .” She stood and straightened her clothing. “You still need to practice. You need to learn how to find a person’s fear within the dream. Sometimes it is hard to find. And you must avoid the soul when you are within the dreamscape.”

  “The soul?” Selene stood, her body chilled to the bone.

  “Yes. What you see is only images of the person whose dream you enter. That wasn’t really Petur we saw inside the dream, only his perceived image of himself. But dreams are a gateway into the mind and soul. If you see the person’s soul, you must never touch it.”

  Her mother turned and headed for the door.

  “What does the soul look like?” Selene asked quietly as they exited Petur’s bare home. “How will I know?”

  “They feel different than an image. Stronger, more powerful. Potent. Sometimes the soul looks like the person. Sometimes it looks like something else. The soul is the core essence of the person, who they really are. I’ve seen souls as dark as midnight, oozing and pulsating like a river of thick, black ink. I’ve seen others where it is a translucent image of the person bound in chains. And once I saw a soul so pure, so full of light, it was like gazing at the sun itself. Those are the most dangerous.”

  Most dangerous? How could something that sounded so beautiful be dangerous?

  They entered the castle and moved along the hallway. “What would happen if I touched a soul?” Selene asked.

  Her mother slowed down. “Then they would see you for who you are, and know you are there. We disguise ourselves as ravens within the dreamscape to hide our identity. We’ve been doing that for hundreds of years. You’ve heard the stories of the raven of Ravenwood, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those stories came about from our visits to the dream world. The stories have been passed down through the years, leaving people to wonder if the raven is real or not. These stories protect us so we can do our real work. But if someone were to discover who we are and what we can really do, we would be in
danger.” Her mother stopped and turned back. Half of her face was hidden in shadow, the other half illuminated by candlelight from a nearby sconce. “Ours is a powerful gift despite what the other Great Houses might have once thought. And it is our ability that caused our ancestors to be wiped out, save for Rabanna. We must never again let others know what we can do. Do you understand? You must never touch a soul.”

  Selene stared back, her face cold and impassive, but inside she shook at the intensity on her mother’s face. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Her mother relaxed and waved toward the corridor. “We will practice again in a fortnight.” Her mother turned and left without saying another word, slipping into the shadows until only moonlight and silence filled the hallway.

  Selene swallowed and headed toward her own bedchambers. Her mother’s words stirred up questions deep inside of her, questions she’d had ever since she learned of the Great Houses and their gifts. Why were they given these gifts? Was there more to it than nightmares and secrets?

  5

  Selene slept later than she meant to. With blurry eyes and her gown haphazardly pulled on, she sat down and let Renata do her hair. The servant girl pulled back her long black strands, tugging and pulling here and there until every hair was captured in a complicated braid of sorts. Selene turned her head right and left, studying her reflection in the window. “When did you learn to do this?”

  Renata gave her a shy smile. “I’ve been practicing. D-D-Do you l-like it?” The smile disappeared into a worried frown.

  Selene smiled back. “I do. Thank you, Renata.” Pity it would not last through her morning training.

  After Renata left, Selene made her way to the faux sitting room, released the secret door, and headed to the training room down below. Silence filled the stone caverns. Amara wasn’t here yet. Good. She wanted to go through her drills quickly so she could visit the library next.

  Selene ended an hour later, her muscles sore but limber. Vigilance. Constant vigilance. Some of her mother’s favorite words, and ones she used when reminding Selene and Amara of why they trained so intensely. Not only did the exercise help them control their muscles and allow them to move silently at night, but they also needed to be prepared should they ever be caught during a dreamwalk. “Our family was almost wiped out once long ago. That will not happen again. You need to be prepared for anything.”