Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies

The time had come for her to leave. Living in the mountains with her mother and three brothers had been entertaining for all of about five minutes. Yes, three brother. Half-brothers, might she add. Erebor was as stoic and boring as the mountain he was named after – all his father’s child. Bismark was quiet, sulky little brother. And Korbin? Korbin thought it was endlessly hilarious to pop out from behind rocks, trees, and everything else as skeleton. It was only funny once.

Then there was her mother. Her always watchful mother. Though it’s not like she can escape those eyes. Even now, even for the past half a year that she’s roamed the wild, wide world outside her pine forest and mountainous home, her mother follows. Not as her mother, but in the eyes of the raven that perches on her shoulder.

For a time though, it had been fun. They’d watched the chaos they’d begun destroy the land and it’s residents like a cancer. That had been the goal, though even they never could have predicted how far their actions would reach. Amazing what stopping one heart can lead to. A full-fledged battle of magicians leaving every kingdom in the land bloodied and beaten and no one won. Her mother was forced to give up her crown, but Weaver is pretty sure that was the plan all along. Bit by bit, after that, the dominos collapsed until their world was, quite literally, ripped on its head. Destruction, chaos, fear and power. Those had been the goals. All but power remained.

After that, Erebor had decided to return to the world-on-its-head. Korbin followed soon enough, leaving Weaver and Bismark with their mother. So she too left, chosing not to return to the world they had ripped to pieces, but to strike her own path. It has taken her some time to find this place, whatever this place is. A forest, inviting and foreign, looms in front of her. There is a line, somewhere, something invisible and something that, had she known, she might not have crossed. But when she does, the raven that sits on her back is suddenly gone.

“Raven?” she calls, though not that loudly. Panic and worry don’t crease her voice, but rather, a hint of curiosity. Where did he go? Did her mother’s magic not reach so far? Perhaps. He had never been hers, not entirely, though the more they had traveled the more he had felt like hers. The place on her back feels light and wrong without him there. She takes stock of the rest of her. Wings- check. Those were her mother’s magic, but somehow, they’d become a part of her instead. Horns – check. Those were the gift of a stranger in a strange land, but they too had become a part of her. The silver chain from the pretty silver boy is also still there.

Most importantly, the rune of Death still sits on her chest. Without it, she knows she would be subject to the rules of death again. With it, she is invincible, and it is a beautiful thing to know it still stands. So where then, and why, did only Raven go? Perhaps she could find him somewhere in the trees or something in this place that she’s stumbled.

She moves into the trees like she owns the place, even though she doesn’t even know what this place is called. Doesn’t matter though. Her head is high, and she looks around with those amber eyes curiously. Could this be a place to settle down? A place worth staying? Maybe. So, she keeps going, trying to figure out just where she’d found herself.

weaver