1.3 The Lady of Ravens Dreams

by Matt P.

The Lady of Ravens, the unknown Queen and the black feather in the field of white, lay in slumber. She dreamed and she did not dream. She saw. She did not understand, but she knew she held within her the kernel of understanding, the seed corn of wisdom. Some day it would sprout and she would reap a harvest of wisdom, but that day was not come yet.

She saw men and not-men around her, and knew that they would die. Some she would help die, some she would assist others in helping. But she counted the toll of the dead and knew she would count more. These were not times where the counters would be bored, or where they could afford to be lax in their duties. She knew she would take up that duty.

She watched the man whom the rain did not touch walk to the girl who would know the way. She wanted to go to them but she knew she had a duty to complete, and that nothing would be accomplished if all did not work. She looked down and saw that in her small hands she held a scythe that was not a scythe. She knew its purpose, for it mirrored hers and both could acquire virtue only through perseverance. So she was determined to persevere, no matter how difficult it was for her.

The final few moments of her vision were red, and strangely peaceful.

The Lady of Ravens, the black feather in the field of white, awoke while the air was still thick with darkness. She watched the first hint of sunrise before she stood up and walked to open the door. She would let her sister think that she got the first shower, as normal.