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5. Shadows of War

I never thought I would believe in ghosts. Not only that, but I never thought I would feel more comforted by a ghost than by my mother.

If I am death, then what are you?

Life is the only possible answer, wasn’t it? I mean, she isn’t alive, but I am.

I run home, looking back over my shoulder as I do. The woods look the same, though I feel as if my entire world has changed. I can see the sun rising on the horizon and the energy in my veins ebbs.

As soon as I climb back into the house through my window, I find a parchment and ink to scribble the ghost’s words before I forget them. I also write the answer.

Life.

“When love grows into life?” I whisper, reading the words from the parchment. What does the rest of it mean?

Wings flutter and Shadow lands on my windowsill. She tilts her head and I frown.

“Raven.”

She twitches her head to the opposite side, as if urging me to continue.

I stand with the parchment in one hand and my other hand pointing at her. “Do you know something about this?”

She lifts her head and drops it.

My heart slams in my chest. “Was that a nod?”

She repeats the motion.

My eyes widen. She couldn’t actually know what I was saying, could she? “I am going insane.”

She repeats the movement again.

Relief floods me and I chuckle to myself, embarrassed that I could believe I was talking to a bird that could understand me. I roll my eyes back and throw myself onto my bed.

The ghost mentioned my parents. She talked about them as if they already knew what she was talking about. One thing I was sure of now was that, yes, they had made me more vulnerable. My lips tremble first from the shock and the fear but it slowly dissolves and re-hardens in the form of rage.

I look to the door that leads to the rest of the house and I shake my head. There is nothing I can do now but confront them. Force them to give me answers to the questions that now riddle my mind.

I hear mother shuffling around in the kitchen like she always does this early in the morning. I can’t confront her on her own, she will just shoo me away. I have to wait for father to come out too, but he never wakes this early.

I pace in my room, walking in circles and folding and unfolding the parchment in my hands until I wear a path down on the wooden floors.

“She said I do not belong to this world,” I still and whisper to Shadow, narrowing my eyes as I look at her shining feathers.

She lifts her winds, ruffling her feathers.

“Is it baffling that it doesn’t scare me?” The idea of me not belonging here actually makes me feel whole. It makes sense and gives meaning to the odd feelings swirling in my stomach. Gives possible meaning to my dreams. Gives possible clarity to the scar on my eyebrow.

Shadow jumps from the windowsill and onto my bed, pacing across its length.

I sit on the edge and run my hand down her neck. “It makes sense.”

She presses her head into my hand and nods like she did before.

“They’re coming for me.”

Shadow seems to still, and I look down at her.

“I am not sure if she meant that as a good thing or a bad thing.”

She tilts her head to the side and jumps back to the windowsill, looking over at me for a moment before flying away.

I sigh and look around my room, chewing on my lip as I make a mental list of all that is important to me. What will I take with me when I leave? And I will have to leave. Because they are coming for me.

Who? I don’t know.

I shake my head, look down at the parchment, and for a moment, doubt creeps in. What if this is all a dream? What if it is all in my head?

I mean, I talk to a bird for crying out loud.

I hear father open the door of their bedroom and trudge down the hall to the kitchen. I inhale sharply and contain the courage in that breath before it escapes me.

I whip my door open and sprint down the hall.

“Elysia?” Father lifts his arm so I can run under him and beat him to the kitchen.

Mother looks up from sipping her tea and frowns. “Elysia? Why are you up so early?”

She looks me up and down, and father catches up to stand next to me and frowns. “Did you even sleep?”

Mother takes in my flushed cheeks, “No, she didn’t.”

I inhale, letting my chest rise and blurt, “Am I a Raven?”

Mother’s eyes widen, and she shoots father a fearful gaze.

Father only takes a step back, as if my words knock him off his balance.

“Where did you hear that word?” Mother whispers as she tightens her grip on her mug.

I look between the both of them, my heart crumbling. They have been lying to me. Or at least omitting some of the truth. I decide to push their buttons. “It’s a bird.”

Mother sighs and looks down at her tea. “You know that’s not what I mean. Why are you associating that word with yourself?”

“Did you accept the knowledge?” Father steps toward me, his eyes heavy with fatigue.

My eyes flick with the heaviness of betrayal. They know.

I nod.

Mother gasps, letting her tea fall to the ground. The mug shatters into pieces and for a moment, time slows. For a moment I regret. For a moment, I feel guilt. For a moment, I feel like a failure. But that all goes away as rage creeps up my limbs, through my veins and into my chest.

“What are you not telling me?” I whisper, my gaze oscillating between the two of them.

Mother stands, her hands shaking. She does not even attempt to pick up the broken mug. “There is no time. We must leave.”

She grabs my arm, but I pull it away. “No, I am not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on!”

Father sighs and steps to me. He places gentle hands on my arms. “Trust us, Elysia. We only want to keep you safe.”

“From what!?”

“You don’t understand what you have started,” Mother whispers.

“Because you don’t tell me anything!” I pull from father’s grasp.

Mother’s features harden, her eyes bulge, and her lips purse tightly. She grips my cheeks between her fingers. “You have started a war that you are not ready to finish. You have placed us all in danger. You have killed us all.”

“Magda, let her go,” Father pulls her away from me and mother only looks at him for a second before bursting into tears and running away into her room.

I look at father. “What is happening?”

He shivers, letting out a breath that I can see, just like I saw last night. He seems perturbed by the sight and looks down at my hands. “We have to go.”

He turns from me to follow mother and when I look down at my hands; I notice that ice covers the tips of my fingers.

“What the-” I wave my hand in front of my face but by the time I begin to freak out, the iciness is gone.

Father comes running back in with a sack and stuffs it with bread and jams and dried meats. “You must prepare.”

I freeze. “She told me that, too.”

He stops what he is doing with his back to me and his shoulders drop. “Alvina.”

“What?”

“Her name is Alvina.”

“H-how do you know?”

“She’s your grandmother.”

“My-my grandmother? Your mom?”

He spins to look at me, and I can see the twitch in his eyes. He purses his lips, chewing on his cheek, “Pack what you can take. Make sure it is light. We need to move fast. We can have this conversation later.”

“You promise?”

“I do.”

“There is nothing I need to take.”

Father stops and nods, understanding.

It shocks me. It angers me. It’s like he has known the desperation in me. Like he has always known that I do not belong.

Mother runs back in, tears running down her cheeks, which are red from exhaustion, and a large sack over her back. “Are we ready?”

Father nods.

She looks at me, her eyes distant, as if she does not recognize me. “When did you accept the knowledge?”

I shake my head, “Hours ago.”

“How many?”

I shrug, “Like five.”

“We have to go, Nazim. He would have felt her then. He is probably already close. ”

“Who?”

She stops, “The King.”

My chest constricts and my voice sticks in my throat. Father and mother exit the house, but I am tethered to my spot. What would a King want with me?

“Elysia!” Father yells.

The panic in voice has me running out to meet them by the stables. I look up as I come to a stop beside my horse, noticing the smoke billowing in the air. “What is going on?”

“They are in the village. It won’t be long before they catch up with us here,” Father speaks quick, securing the sacks to the saddles.

“Hurry!” Mother yells, climbing onto the saddle of her horse.

Father and I follow suit and we take off into the shadows of the mountain.

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