_Dorian's POV_
The raven opened its beak.
And it spoke.
At first, I thought I imagined it. Maybe exhaustion was playing tricks on my mind. But then—
"The moon weeps, yet the world sees only light. A flower wilts in the hands of the one who holds it too tight."
The words sent a chill through me.
I took a slow step back, my heart pounding against my ribs. I glanced at Marcus, expecting him to scoff or question what I had just heard. But he was frozen, staring at the raven with the same shock I felt.
Then the raven spoke again, its voice like a whisper carried on the wind—soft, eerie, and laced with something ancient.
"A melody plays, yet the dancer does not lead. Strings are pulled, yet the puppet does not bleed."
I clenched my fists. This wasn’t just a coincidence. The raven had co
