Raven

Posted On February 1, 2020

“You’re one of them,” he said.

The child lifted her dark eyes.

Lothor remembered that look. His clansmen had worn it, before. It was defiance.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m called Raven.”

Raven. The Firstborn gave the name to any born with the dark, man-child look. The Camran look. They were unfortunate accidents of planning, inferior and unwanted. They didn’t merit individual names. They all answered to Raven.

“How many Ravens are at Twelvestones?”

“Eleven,” she said. “Ten since I’m gone. All ages, though. Some old, some just babies.”

Eleven in the generations since the vile bargain began. How many more never drew a second breath, he wondered for the first time. Children of Camran blood. Denied and abandoned by their clan.

Abandoned by him.