Chapter 11 – Rowan
ROWAN
Ifight the urge to stay right here and wait for Riven, but the wild energy, fear, and adrenaline surging through me is taking over, so I break into a run, heading for the west tower’s entrance.
Not to flee—not yet. But from the west hall, I will have a better vantage point of the castle walls to see what is happening outside.
And I’m not the only one.
A small crowd is forming by the windows at the base of the tower; I recognize two of them as lords, Riven’s friends from court, along with a handful of servants. They’re all staring down at the scene below, expressions white with fear.
The group parts for me, letting me through.
“What’s happening?” I ask, peering out the nearest window. The base of the tower offers an unimpeded view of the castle gates and walls. Fae archers are perched upon them, either impatiently pacing as they wait for the army to get within range, or standing as still as the gargoyles beside them.
And beyond them, I pale, taking in the sight of the Kovarian army. Rows and rows of soldiers and horses, clad in silver armour—some in black—helmets on and weapons drawn.
Archers line Rosecliff’s walls; more soldiers stand in rigid formation in the yard. But even I can tell… there aren’t enough. Not nearly enough. If Kovaria breaches the walls...
My heart sinks.
Fel took most of Rosecliff’s forces, along with his own, to lead the evacuation through the tunnels. They will ensure the passage is safe, prioritizing the safety of Rosecliff’s people.
All who remained behind did so voluntarily.
Most of the soldiers are older, many of them coming out of retirement to protect Rosecliff and our people.
I scan the soldiers below until I spot my brother, just in front of the reinforced gates, talking with one of the commanders. In my periphery, my eyes snag upon a catapult, far out across the field, just before it’s launched.
“Get down!” I scream, pulling the nearest person with me to the ground. An enormous boulder sails toward the castle walls, just narrowly missing the window. The tower shudders at the impact; glass and pottery shatter around us as they’re knocked from their shelves.
A woman is crying.
I rise slowly and peek out the window, curiosity outweighing the danger. Outside, the neat lines of the Kovarian army part, making way for someone—or something.
A dark figure emerges, outfitted fully in black, giving him the illusion of being cloaked in darkness. It’s still dark out, but the night’s shadows appear to cling to him, twisting around his body like some kind of shield.
The Raven.
My eyes go wide and I stumble backward, away from the window, drawing further into the shadows myself, my instincts screaming at me to run—to hide—from the dark demon.
Behind me, one man begins a rapid prayer to the goddess of light.
The shadow demon steps forward, moving past the front line of waiting soldiers, his cloak billowing out behind him in the strong wind. Though his hood and cowl remain in place, concealing every inch of his face, hiding the fully blackened eyes, demon eyes, I know I’d find underneath.
He stops a few feet ahead of the line, his gaze narrowing on the castle gates.
The blood in my veins turns to ice, and I know the very moment he draws in his power, a gasp of surprise escaping me. To everyone else, he just looks to be standing there. Watching. Waiting.
But really, he’s gathering power, and from the ice in my veins and the bitter tang on my tongue, he’s calling forth a lot of power. More power than I’ve ever sensed before.
Fae with magic can sense magic in others, can even garner their strength or their power if so attuned.
It’s why I have to be so careful when practicing my own, lest anyone with royal blood be lurking about.
A Raven isn’t fae, but a creature born from the blood of demons.
I shouldn’t be able to feel it. That power—his power—is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
A choking sound escapes me when he steps forward again, leaving the vast Kovarian army at his back and walking toward the castle walls—alone. Someone close by misunderstands my fear and rubs a comforting hand across my back.
“He’ll never make it past the archers,” one of the young lords I saw Riven talking to earlier says smugly. “Just wait till he’s in range. They’ll shoot him down in seconds.”
I keep my eyes on the Raven. He looks like a man, just like the rest of the soldiers, in the way he moves and carries himself, but darkness bleeds from him with every step, as if he’s leaking shadows.
I can practically see the darkness emanating from him as he prowls forward with lethal grace, dark shadows trailing out behind his billowing cloak.
Given the fact that no one around me is screaming, I might be the only one who can see them.
Shouts rise from the wall, and the archers load their bows, taking aim as the Raven draws closer—the demon creature almost in range.
“He’s crazy,” mumbles one of the lords. But I can’t form words, my anxiety rising as the Raven gets closer, reading only confidence in his steps. Fear fills every inch of me, and I grab hold of my skirts with shaking hands.
Another shout rings out when he crosses into range, and all at once, the archers atop the castle walls rain arrows down upon the dark soldier.
He doesn’t stop; he doesn’t even hesitate, continuing to stalk forward. Even with dozens of arrows hurtling his way, his gaze stays fixed on the stone wall before him.
I hold my breath when the first arrow reaches him, only to choke on it when the arrow slides right through as if the man is made up of nothing but smoke.
Wisps of darkness leak out from every place the arrows strike him, passing through again and again as the archers find their mark.
His pace doesn’t even slow. The Kovarian army makes no move to retaliate, waiting still and ominous at his back.
There are several gasps, a prayer to the gods, and even a scream within our little group as we try to make sense of what we’re seeing. A few break away, tripping over themselves in their haste to reach the tower’s doors, scrambling up the steps and heading for the tunnel.
I watch in tantalizing fear as the soldiers loose round after round of arrows upon the shadow creature below to no avail. He never once falters.
“Demon,” someone mutters to the left.
I don’t know what I expected; I was barely a child the last time I encountered a Raven, and only remember bits and pieces, but this is horrifying.
Now just a few feet from the wall, the Raven comes to a halt. Shadows coil around him like living things, licking at his boots before unfurling behind him in slow, restless tendrils. My heart thunders against my chest when his hooded gaze suddenly shifts up.
Not to the gate or the guard towers, but all the way up to the exact window where I’m standing. Slowly, deliberately, as if he is aware I am watching him.
I’m hit with another wave of awareness as the shadows thicken around him.
Though his features remain hidden beneath the cowl, I am certain he’s looking directly at me. Everything fades beneath the frantic pounding of my heart, and I feel something stir deep within me
My instincts scream at me to run, and I’m not the only one.
Under the heavy weight of his cloaked gaze, the remaining servants and lords abandon me, scrambling up the tower steps, fleeing the shadow demon at our gates.
But I’m frozen, locked within his stare as if he’d wrapped his shadows around my throat.
After what feels like an eternity, he breaks our tethered stare with a slight raise of his hand, turning his attention back to the wall.
I drag my eyes away from him as shouts rise from the forest’s edge, where the soldiers—the Kovarian army—surge forward in a sudden charge.
I don’t understand. The walls remain unbreached.
Why are they charging? My eyes dart between the surging army and the Raven waiting patiently below.
Arrows continue to fly through him in wisps before the archers take aim at the approaching soldiers, laying down a hailstorm of arrows, but there are hundreds of soldiers—thousands, maybe—and while a handful of them fall, they just keep coming.
“The wall still stands,” I whisper to myself in reassurance. “It still stands.”
Even with the army drawing near, I find my eyes drawn back to the dark demon who is still lingering outside the wall.
His focus is once again on the impenetrable wall of stone before him.
With all the time and care in the world, he removes one of his thick leather gloves before reaching out and pressing his bare palm against the rough stone.
Darkness sweeps out in all directions from beneath his palm, cascading across the entire wall as if to swallow it whole.
The Raven lifts his head and his shadows darken further, and the stone wall of the castle...
It appears to lighten, fading away to nearly nothing at all, or rather turning to shadow itself.
All I can do is watch in horror as the archers and the soldiers who had been standing atop the castle walls now fall through it. Their screams cut off abruptly when they hit the ground hard, nearly fifty feet below.
The Kovarian army doesn’t slow as it reaches the shadowy remnants of the castle walls, but instead, runs straight through it. In just seconds, they have done what none of the great fae armies of history had managed to do: breached the walls of Rosecliff.
The small contingent of Sitari soldiers prepare themselves for the onslaught, blades and shields drawn, bravely staring down the raging army of Kovaria. But there aren’t enough—not nearly enough to do anything but make them pause.
Screams of metal fill the air when the two forces clash, swords meeting swords, beginning a brutal dance as fae and humans alike meet their end right before my eyes. Fae, by nature, are stronger—faster—but Kovaria has the numbers, and it’s not long before the castle guard is completely overwhelmed.
Tears stream down my face as my gaze finds the Raven again, his palm still resting against the wall. He turns it into shadow—turning the city’s greatest defense into nothing more than shadowy mist.
With the enemy now inside the walls, Sitara’s forces are deluged.
The Raven lifts his palm from the stone; the castle wall immediately rematerializes fully as he stalks along the side of it—headed for the entrance.
Kovari soldiers quickly seize the gates, dragging the heavy doors open.
Riven.
I lost sight of my brother, distracted by the appearance of the Raven, and I don’t know if he remains somewhere within the bloodbath below.
Has it been longer than fifteen minutes?
Panic rises and my head spins while my heart races with both fear and adrenaline. Tearing myself away from the window, I fly down the tower stairs instead of up. When I reach the hall, I can already hear shouts coming from inside the castle, more clanging metal, and the sounds of shattering glass.
The battle now spilling into the castle.