Prologue

Run.

Eira’s eyes were wide with horror as her people were slaughtered as she peeked out of her cottage window. Firelight glowed on her face and reflected in her pale blue-and-yellow eyes. The heat made sweat run down her back. The screams of her mother, father, and baby brother sliced through the crackling of fire and the wet cut of their throats being slit downstairs, blood painting the walls and ceilings in perfectly formed splatters.

She heard the voice in her head again whisper, Run.

Eira quietly crept over to the other window on the other side of the room that faced the Ravenveil forest, where, on the other side of the forest, no one knew they existed. Until tonight. She crept, trying to be quiet as she stepped around all the creaky boards. She lifted the floorboard by the back wall that had a window looking out at the forest. She grabbed her weathered leather sack and pulled out the belongings her mother had shoved into her arms before she took off running downstairs to try to save her baby brother, who was just barely two months old. But it was too late to save them. Eira was two years shy of her first shift. While she was trained as a healer by the Valkyrie warriors who came to help protect the Ravenborne months ago, she didn’t stand a chance against the wyvern that scorched the earth under the king's orders. The wyvern’s riders were slaughtering anyone who bore the blood of the raven shifters. She was too small, still too green to bear her daggers.

She looked out in the dark mist of blackwood pines and eased out of the window frame. She found her footing on the vines that wound up their cottage walls. The rich, emerald green vines were once a sign of hope; the vines had healing properties and magic that gave her family the ability to become the healers of the Ravenborne. The Ravenborne people would come from across the forest to see them. But they were wilting in the heat of the flames consuming her friends' and neighbors' homes. The snow began to melt on the ground below. She grabbed a baby vine by the roots and threw it in her sack.

The King of the Elvenbound found that their people were guilty of being the harbingers of death and must be executed at all costs. The screams began to diminish, ash and smoke filling the air. When her feet met the wet, cold ground, she wrapped her cloak around her and began to run into the woods.

Run, Little One, Run.

Eira ran as fast as she could, ducking under tree limbs, jumping over roots. Trying to find some solace, some safety. Some place she could hide. She had brought nothing with her but her conduit, her obsidian and iron daggers, a waterskin, and her mother's book of healing and spells in a weathered leather sack thrown on her back. Her fur cloak and warm clothes were all she had. Her shoes were a bit big; they were her older brother’s boots from before he passed in the war against the king.

She was close to the clearing where an underground path and bunker were hidden by her family, which had tunnels that would lead her out to the coastal village. The village had ships that would take her to the other continent. But she stopped. The mist had a pale grey-orange glow as she turned and saw the flames from her village consuming where her cottage would have been. Her village was the last of the Ravenborne; there were no reported survivors from the other villages. But she looked like a human, as she had her ears clipped to prevent them from elongating. It was the only hope she had to stay alive. There were no more screams, just a faded sound of wyvern wings as they launched into the sky and the sound of crackling fire of the last of the Ravenborne and the Valkyrie women who tried to give them a chance of escape.

Eira felt her chest tighten with grief, but she turned and continued toward the clearing lit by the blood moon. The wind rushed through the trees as the ghosts of ravens propelled her to safety. She knew it was her family, her brothers, pushing her to keep the bloodline safe. She met the bush of berries that concealed the bunker. She brushed off the leaves and snow, using her lesser magic to unweave the runes. She pricked her finger to let a drop of blood fall onto the lock.

The fire was in the forest now. The hissing of the wet trees as they perished. She opened the hatch and climbed down the ladder. She locked and wove the runes. Adding a rune that would turn the hatch to rock. She couldn’t go back. She left behind everything. She sat in the darkness on the cold dirt floor as she cried. Grief took over her. She felt the burn that singed the side of her face from staring at the horrific scene of her village when she should have run away sooner. She didn’t feel the burn or know she was burned until now.

“May Veylan take their souls and grant them peace and prosperity in the beyond,” she whispered through the tears. She kissed the conduit that she placed around her neck.

The air felt thicker; her chest felt like it was constricting, like a snake was wrapped around her. Her tears stung the burn on her face. She wept. She felt a whisper against her cheek, like when her mother would wipe away her tears. Exhaustion began to settle into her bones.

It’s time to go, Little One.

The voice in her head whispered softly, as if to understand her grief.

Eira stood on shaky legs, like a newborn reindeer. She pulled out her water skin and took a gulp, recapping it and placing it in the sack. The sack that had the only things that were left of the Ravenborne. The only things that were left of the family she had to leave behind.

As she walked through the cold tunnels, she made a silent vow. The Elevenbound King, he too shall perish. For when the last Raven gathers, death will follow close behind.**