Chapter 2 : the ravens Cross the north
2975 Words
The rain did not stop.
It drummed steadily against the palace windows through the afternoon, cloaking the capital in a gray veil that matched the mood hanging over Ashbourne.
Aurelia walked beside Martha through the eastern corridor in silence.
Usually, the palace bustled with servants carrying trays of food, ministers hurrying to meetings, and musicians filling the halls with soft melodies.
Today, the corridors felt abandoned.
The few servants they passed bowed quickly before disappearing around corners, their whispered conversations ending the moment Aurelia approached.
She knew why.
The messenger from the Shadow Kingdom.
News traveled through the palace faster than wildfire.
By nightfall, every servant would know.
By morning, every citizen would be whispering the Shadow King’s name once more.
“You haven’t said a word since we left the council,” Martha said gently.
Aurelia forced a smile.
“I’m thinking.”
“I can see that.”
They stepped into the Queen’s Garden, a quiet sanctuary hidden behind ivy-covered walls. White roses bloomed despite the cold rain, their delicate petals heavy with droplets that sparkled like tiny pearls.
This had been Queen Selene’s favorite place.
After her death, few people came here anymore.
Aurelia often did.
It was the only place in the palace where she felt close to her mother.
She knelt beside a rosebush, brushing her fingertips across a blossom.
“My mother planted these herself, didn’t she?”
Martha nodded.
“She said white roses reminded her that hope could survive even the harshest winters.”
Aurelia smiled faintly.
“That sounds like her.”
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence between them was comfortable, filled only by the gentle patter of rain.
Finally, Aurelia broke it.
“Martha…”
“Hm?”
“Do you believe the stories about the Shadow King?”
The older woman’s hands froze.
It was only for a heartbeat.
But Aurelia noticed.
“You’ve never asked me that before.”
“I know.”
“And why now?”
“Because today…” Aurelia hesitated. “Today I learned he might not be just a story.”
Martha looked away.
Her gaze drifted toward the northern mountains hidden beyond the rain.
“When I was a little girl,” she said quietly, “my grandmother used to tell me something very different from the stories told in the palace.”
Aurelia turned to her.
“What did she say?”
Martha’s lips curved into a sad smile.
“She said that not every shadow hides evil.”
Aurelia frowned.
“That’s all?”
“That was all she ever dared say.”
Before Aurelia could ask another question, hurried footsteps echoed through the garden.
A young maid stopped at the entrance, breathing hard.
“Princess Aurelia.”
“Yes?”
“His Majesty requests your presence.”
“Again?”
“The royal family has gathered in the King’s private chamber.”
Aurelia’s stomach tightened.
The council had ended barely an hour ago.
What could have happened already?
The King’s private chamber was far smaller than the Great Hall.
No nobles stood here.
No generals.
Only family.
King Aldric stood beside the fireplace, his back turned to the room.
Princess Evelyne sat stiffly in a velvet chair, her elegant hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
Prince Lucian paced before the windows.
Rosaline sat quietly beside him, clutching a handkerchief.
No one looked at one another.
The air felt unbearably heavy.
When Aurelia entered, her father finally turned.
His face was pale.
His eyes were red, as though he had aged years in a single afternoon.
“You came.”
“You asked for me, Father.”
He nodded slowly.
“Sit.”
She obeyed.
For several moments, the only sound came from the fire crackling softly in the hearth.
King Aldric drew a deep breath.
“The messenger will remain in the capital until sunrise.”
Lucian stopped pacing.
“So little time?”
“The treaty allows three days.”
“The plague does not.”
Silence followed.
The king looked at each of his children in turn.
“I have spent my entire reign trying to protect this kingdom.”
His voice trembled slightly.
“I promised your mother I would protect all of you.”
Aurelia’s heart ached.
He rarely spoke of Queen Selene.
“Father…”
He raised a hand gently.
“Please.”
“I need you to listen.”
The room became perfectly still.
“The treaty requires that a child of the royal blood willingly travel to the Shadow Kingdom.”
Rosaline burst into tears.
Evelyne immediately wrapped an arm around her younger sister.
“No one is going anywhere,” Evelyne said firmly.
“There must be another way.”
“I have searched every record in the royal archives,” King Aldric replied.
“I have prayed.”
“I have begged the temple.”
“There is no other path.”
Lucian slammed his fist against the windowsill.
“So we’re expected to sacrifice one of my sisters?”
“No.”
The King’s voice broke.
“I am expected to.”
Those words shattered the silence.
For the first time since entering the room, Aurelia saw not a king…
But a father.
A man trapped between saving his people and protecting his children.
Tears welled in Rosaline’s eyes.
“I don’t want anyone to leave.”
“No one does,” Lucian whispered.
Aurelia lowered her gaze.
Something about the room felt strange.
No one had mentioned names.
Yet everyone seemed afraid of speaking them.
As though saying a single name aloud would make the choice real.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
A raven landed upon the windowsill.
Its glossy black feathers glistened with rain.
Instead of pecking at the glass or flying away…
It simply watched.
Its dark eyes settled upon Aurelia.
Unblinking.
Waiting.
She stared back.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, a strange calm washed over her.
Then the raven spread its wings.
It lifted into the storm and disappeared toward the north.
Aurelia followed its flight until it vanished beyond the rain.
She never noticed the look that passed between King Aldric and Princess Evelyne.
Or the quiet sorrow that filled Martha’s eyes as she stood unnoticed near the chamber door.
Someone in that room already knew how this story would end.
And deep in her heart…
Aurelia feared she was the only one who didn’t.
The silence in the King’s chamber lingered long after the raven disappeared into the storm.
No one spoke.
The fire crackled softly, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, rain continued to fall against the windows, blurring the view of the palace gardens.
King Aldric turned away, resting one hand against the stone mantel.
“I’ve summoned each of you,” he said quietly, “because what we decide tonight will shape the future of Ashbourne.”
His voice was steady.
Too steady.
As though he had practiced these words countless times before saying them aloud.
Lucian stepped forward.
“Then there is still a decision to make.”
“There is.”
“And if none of us agrees?”
The King’s shoulders stiffened.
“Then I will refuse the treaty.”
Rosaline looked up hopefully.
“Really?”
King Aldric nodded.
“I will not force one of my children into a fate they did not choose.”
Relief washed over Aurelia.
For the first time that day, she allowed herself to breathe.
Perhaps the messenger would leave tomorrow.
Perhaps the treaty would remain nothing more than an ancient promise left unfulfilled.
Perhaps—
A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts.
Three slow knocks.
The chamber door opened.
High Priest Malachor entered without waiting for permission.
His white robes were untouched by the rain, though he had clearly crossed the palace grounds.
He bowed his head politely.
“Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty.”
King Aldric frowned.
“This is a family matter.”
“It concerns your family.”
Something in the priest’s tone caused the room to grow still.
He carried another scroll in his hands.
Unlike the treaty, this one was bound with crimson ribbon.
“I have just returned from the Temple Archives.”
King Aldric’s expression darkened.
“I told you the discussion was over.”
“I’m afraid it cannot be.”
Malachor approached the king and held out the scroll.
“I found the missing pages.”
The King’s eyes widened.
“What missing pages?”
“The ones removed from the First Treaty nearly three centuries ago.”
Aurelia exchanged a confused glance with Lucian.
Removed?
Who would alter an ancient treaty?
King Aldric slowly accepted the scroll.
His fingers hesitated before breaking the ribbon.
The room fell silent once again.
As his eyes moved across the page, every trace of color drained from his face.
“No…”
The word escaped him in a whisper.
“Father?” Evelyne asked.
He looked up.
His voice was barely audible.
“The treaty names…”
He couldn’t finish.
Malachor did it for him.
“It names the bride.”
The room froze.
Rosaline clutched Evelyne’s arm.
Lucian stared at the priest in disbelief.
“Impossible.”
“The Old Tongue leaves little room for interpretation.”
Malachor’s calm gaze swept across the royal children before settling, almost imperceptibly, on Aurelia.
“The bride must be…”
He paused.
“…the youngest unmarried daughter of the royal blood.”
Aurelia felt as though the floor had vanished beneath her feet.
The youngest.
Unmarried.
There was only one.
Rosaline burst into tears.
“No!”
Lucian stepped protectively in front of Aurelia.
“This changes nothing.”
“The King said no one would be forced.”
Malachor inclined his head.
“His Majesty is free to refuse.”
He turned toward the window, watching the rain.
“But by dawn, three more villages will likely fall to the plague.”
He spoke without emotion.
“As will hundreds more of your people.”
His words hung heavily in the room.
King Aldric closed his eyes.
He looked like a man carrying the weight of an entire kingdom upon his shoulders.
Aurelia watched him in silence.
She had seen her father make difficult choices before.
Never one like this.
She thought of Saint Rowan’s Hospice.
Of children burning with fever.
Of mothers begging the healers to save their sons.
Of the funeral bells.
Always the bells.
Forty-three people had died that morning.
How many tomorrow?
How many before the week’s end?
She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat.
“Father…”
Everyone turned toward her.
She stood slowly.
Her hands trembled, but her voice remained surprisingly calm.
“If…”
She drew a careful breath.
“If the treaty is honored…”
She couldn’t bring herself to say if I go.
“…will the plague truly end?”
No one answered immediately.
At last, King Aldric spoke.
“The messenger swore it would.”
“And the war?”
“He promised the Shadow Kingdom would guard our northern border.”
Aurelia lowered her eyes.
She understood now why her father looked so broken.
There had never been a good choice.
Only impossible ones.
She looked around the room.
At Rosaline’s tears.
At Lucian’s anger.
At Evelyne’s pale face.
Then back to the man who had carried the crown since she was a little girl.
For the first time in years…
She saw him not as a king.
But as a father terrified of losing his child.
Outside, another raven landed upon the windowsill.
It tilted its head, watching her in silence.
As though waiting for an answer.
Aurelia’s heart pounded.
She didn’t know why.
But she had the strange feeling that this was not the first time fate had brought her to this crossroads.
And somewhere far beyond the Black Forest…
A king she had never met stood beneath the same storm-filled sky.
Waiting.
Not knowing that the decision that would change both their lives…
Was about to be made.
The chamber remained silent long after Aurelia’s question.
The rain beat steadily against the windows, each drop sounding louder than the last.
King Aldric looked at his youngest daughter, and for a moment, he saw not the princess standing before him, but the little girl who had once chased butterflies through the Queen’s Garden with scraped knees and tangled golden hair.
She had always smiled so easily.
She had inherited her mother’s gentle heart.
And now…
That same heart was asking him to weigh one life against thousands.
“I cannot ask this of you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“You are my daughter before you are my princess.”
Aurelia felt tears sting her eyes.
She had longed to hear words like these for years.
Not because she doubted her father’s love, but because the burdens of the crown had always kept him at a distance.
Now, for the first time, that distance had disappeared.
Lucian stepped beside her.
“Father is right.”
He looked directly at Malachor.
“The treaty can remain broken.”
“If Varek invades, then we fight.”
“If the plague spreads, then we endure.”
“But we will not send Aurelia to a monster.”
Malachor’s expression remained unreadable.
“You speak with courage, Your Highness.”
“But courage does not cure sickness.”
His calm words ignited Lucian’s temper.
“My people need hope, not riddles!”
“And what is hope without sacrifice?” the High Priest asked quietly.
The room fell silent again.
Aurelia watched the exchange with a growing sense of unease.
Something about Malachor disturbed her.
He never raised his voice.
He never appeared angry.
Yet every sentence seemed carefully chosen, gently steering the conversation toward only one conclusion.
As though he had rehearsed it.
As though this moment had been waiting for him.
King Aldric suddenly turned.
“Leave us.”
Malachor bowed.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
He walked toward the door without another word.
Just before stepping into the corridor, he paused.
Without looking back, he said,
“The messenger departs at sunrise.”
“The Shadow Kingdom will accept only a willing bride.”
Then he was gone.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Aurelia released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
The room somehow felt lighter.
King Aldric sank heavily into a chair.
“I trusted him.”
Lucian frowned.
“You still do.”
The King didn’t answer.
Instead, he buried his face in his hands.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
The words shocked them all.
Kings were not supposed to sound uncertain.
Rosaline crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.
He hugged her tightly.
Evelyne quietly wiped away a tear.
Aurelia looked away, giving them the privacy of their grief.
Her gaze drifted toward the rain-soaked gardens below.
In the distance, beyond the palace walls, she could just make out the streets of the capital.
Even from here, she could see people gathered outside Saint Rowan’s Hospice.
Another cart covered in white cloth stood nearby.
Another family mourning.
Another life lost.
The bells began to ring again.
One.
Two.
Three.
She closed her eyes.
She knew those bells.
Every chime carried a name.
A child.
A mother.
A father.
Someone loved.
Someone gone.
Without realizing it, she whispered,
“How many more?”
No one answered.
There was no answer.
Only silence.
Later that evening, Aurelia left the King’s chamber alone.
The palace corridors were dimly lit, their walls glowing softly beneath rows of flickering candles.
She walked without direction, her thoughts tangled beyond reason.
When she reached the Queen’s Garden, she stopped.
The rain had finally eased.
Moonlight slipped through the thinning clouds, bathing the white roses in silver light.
Everything was still.
Too still.
She knelt beside her mother’s favorite rosebush.
“I wish you were here.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
A cool breeze stirred the flowers.
For the briefest moment…
She could have sworn someone whispered her name.
“Aurelia…”
She looked around quickly.
No one.
Only the wind.
She let out a quiet laugh at herself.
“I’m imagining things.”
Just then—
A flutter of wings broke the silence.
A single raven landed upon the stone fountain in the center of the garden.
Unlike the ravens she had seen earlier, this one wore a narrow silver band around one leg.
It stared at her.
Not with the wary gaze of a wild bird…
But with unmistakable intelligence.
The raven tilted its head once.
Then spread its wings.
A small object slipped from its claws, landing softly at Aurelia’s feet.
The bird immediately took flight.
Within seconds, it disappeared into the moonlit sky.
Confused, Aurelia bent down.
Lying among the white rose petals was a single black feather.
It shimmered faintly beneath the moonlight.
Wrapped around its stem was a strip of silver ribbon.
Her fingers trembled as she untied it.
Three words had been written in elegant handwriting.
Do not fear.
She stared at the message.
There was no signature.
No seal.
Nothing to reveal who had sent it.
Yet somehow…
Deep within her heart…
She knew.
It had come from the Shadow Kingdom.
Far away, beyond the Black Forest, beyond the Mountains of Mist, beyond the Veil spoken of in ancient stories…
Someone was waiting.
Not with chains.
Not with threats.
But with hope that she would choose to come.
Aurelia closed her fingers around the feather.
For the first time since the messenger’s arrival…
She wondered if every story she had ever been told about the Shadow King had been a lie.
- Writer
