The Raven Wars, Book Two: Chapter 5

Below is a chapter rewrite from Book 2: The Raven Wars of The Raven Dreams Trilogy. If you’d like to read the original series, you can get it here.

The click of the door pulled Simon out of sleep. In the deep quiet of the night, instinct overcame him. To say it was natural to pick up on such a soft sound in the distance while asleep wouldn’t be accurate. The raven in him had sharper senses than the man, and right now they were all the way awake.

He jumped up, threw his shirt over his head, grabbed the machete out of the bottom drawer, and stepped out of the room without making a sound. On the landing, he stopped and focused his senses further, with more clarity than human ears could reach. He felt the weight of a presence somewhere below. Still. Deliberate. Trying not to be heard.

Eva was watching Ivy at Hazel’s. Whoever had walked through the front door, it wasn’t her.

He hurried the rest of the way down, two steps at a time, not making a sound, and crept through the living room. His senses fanned out ahead of him, sweeping the corners, the shadows, the dark under the stairs. Someone stood beside the front door, hidden to the naked eye but clear to Simon’s inner perception.

He froze. The front door slammed open as the wind picked up. He used this opportunity to lunge forward, but before he could close the door and reach the person hiding behind it, his attention was caught by the sight outside, just beyond the threshold of the house.

Through the open door, the fog rolled and breathed over the ground, black and slow. The same soft clicking from before drifted within it. Temporarily forgetting the intruder, something pulled him toward it. Something ancient that coursed through his veins, whether he wanted it or not.

His mind went to Eva. She’s safe at Hazel’s, he reminded himself.

The presence Simon knew was waiting behind the door stepped out of the shadows, snapping him out of the fog’s trance. His foot caught the man’s legs, and he went down with a grunt. Simon stood over him, blade up.

“Whoa—” The man’s hands shot up. “Simon, calm down.”

Simon knew that voice. “Tim?” He lowered the machete and offered his hand. Tim took it, pulled himself up.

“I didn’t want anyone to hear me,” Tim said. Still catching his breath. “I wasn’t sure if Eva was home.”

Simon closed the front door, glancing one more time at the fog, eager to put the door between him and it. He went to the hutch for the firefly jar and lifted the lid. They drifted up into the lantern, slow and bright, throwing just enough light across the room.

He turned back to Tim and looked at him. He was different than Simon remembered.

His blonde hair fell over one eye, longer and less kept than before. There was something restless in him. The tell was in the way his hand moved up and down his arm.

“Why does it matter if Eva’s here?” Simon asked. “Anything you say to me, you can trust her with. You know that.”

Tim didn’t answer right away. He kept fidgeting and peering out the window as if the fog might be the next to break in.

“Tim. What is it?”

The look Tim gave was answer enough. Simon knew that look well. He had carried that same look himself and had hoped he’d never need to again. Yet, Eva’s nightmares had already started to dim that hope like a candle nearing the end of its wick.

It can’t be, he thought.

Tim leaned forward, and Simon noticed the aged whiskey on his breath for the first time.

“Something’s happening in Dysmortia.” His voice dropped as if someone, or something, might overhear him. “We’ve tried to ignore it and hoped it would pass on its own. But it’s getting stronger.”

Simon’s stomach twisted.

Tim glanced toward the window again. “And from the looks of it, you’re already aware of this.”

Simon followed his gaze. The fog continued rolling, slow and black, over the ground, breathing its quiet breath. The clicking was faintly audible even through the glass.

He swallowed. “What’s been happening, exactly?”

“The council has received word from multiple sources.” Tim’s hand finally stilled. “There are whispers of a gathering. A band of Betrayers, building a following in the dark.” He paused. “We can’t be certain of it yet. Which is why I came to you.”

He looked at Simon steadily, the apology already on his face before he finished. “You knew him better than anyone, Simon. You saw the things he created.”

Tim wasn’t wrong. Amicus was his father, and the blood tie still felt like something he couldn’t wash off. He knew that man’s inner world better than anyone. Even with him gone, Simon still carried the weighted memories of being his son.

Outside, something crackled. Simon went to the window. The fog was thicker now, pressing closer, filling the space between the trees.

“Is it always like that?” Tim asked, distracted, his eyes wide, reflecting the growing wall of darkness.

“It gets worse every night, it seems.” Simon didn’t move from the window. “Walking out there now won’t lead anywhere good. We stay until sunrise. Then I’ll go with you.”

Tim turned to him. “I’m sorry. I know how hard this must be for you.”

“Don’t be,” Simon replied. “It’s good to get out ahead of it before anything takes hold.” He thought of Eva on the other side of the valley. She needed this even less than he did, and the last thing he wanted was for her to have to fight again… or to be in danger.

“Eva’s been having nightmares again,” Simon said.

Tim’s eyes dropped, and he let out a slow breath. Simon could see that Tim knew what that meant.

“Since when?” Tim asked.

“About a week ago.” Simon gave up on watching the fog and sat down.

Tim nodded.

“That’s why I came to you first.” Tim leaned forward again, sitting down next to Simon. “I didn’t want to bring this to Eva before we understood it better. She has enough to carry.”

Simon was quiet.

“Dysmortia is in danger,” Tim continued. “And if that’s true, so is Amortera.”

Simon thought of Eva again. He thought of what she’d come home to—the empty house, the note he’d have to leave, knowing what she’d learned about her father. He didn’t want to add to her distress.

“If I leave without telling her, she’ll worry.”

“If you tell her, she’ll want to come,” Tim said. “If something happens while you’re gone, her people will need her.” He put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, his whiskey breath somehow stronger than it was a moment ago. “I’ve felt the same guilt with Bethany. More times than I’d like to admit. But we have to act now. Eva will understand.”

Simon knew Tim was right, and he knew it wasn’t the alcohol speaking. He knew because he felt it in his veins. The raven’s blood that connected him to his father pulsed with an aliveness again. An aliveness that was also dark.

But beneath that darkness, something else moved. The part of him that came from the same blood but reached toward the earth, toward something he had no language for yet. It surfaced briefly, then sank again.

He knew he’d have some explaining to do when he got back, but he had to go now. Eva would understand. She had to. He gave Tim a short nod and went upstairs to pack.

The night passed slowly, the fog pressing against the windows, the clicking faint and continuous until somewhere around the third hour it stopped. Tim was already at the door with his pack.

Simon sat at the table and picked up the pen. He had been putting it off all night.

Tim came by. He needed my help in Dysmortia. I’ll explain when I get back. I love you.

He looked at it for a moment. Four sentences. He read them back and knew they weren’t enough. He set it on the table anyway, where she’d find it. Then he picked up his pack and followed Tim out the door. It clicked shut softly behind him.

• Read all the FREE chapter shares and behind-the-scenes from Book One and Book Two here.

• If you’d like to read the original version of the books to see how the story evolves and changes in the rewrite, you can get a copy here.

Some journeys ask us to go deeper than we expected. If you’re in one of those seasons, I’d be honored to sit with you through the cards.