The process was quick, and his fears were unfounded. In the absence of the stone panel, another portal of darkness wavered silently like a still pool of water. With the memories of the discomfort of the last doorway still fresh in his mind, he mentally steeled himself before striding confidently into the blackness.

  Unlike traveling between the Raven’s Court and the Roost, this gap felt far more similar to passing through the windSteps to and from the castle. The temporary void of the passing cleared in a flash, and he found himself in a small, dimly lit chamber.

  By all appearances, the room looked like nothing more than a broom closet for the larger temple he’d just left. His curiosity was piqued. Beyond the torch suspended on the rear wall and the petite raven perched on a peg to its side, the chamber was empty.

  He was struck by the room’s underwhelming size. It was hardly larger than his own quarters in the castle, perhaps five meters wide with a ceiling a few heads taller than him. The call, the lure of the statue at the rear, urged him onward. There was power within its tiny frame, he was certain, yet there was something about the chamber that gave him pause. The strength that awaited him was no more than five paces away, yet after the puzzles he’d gone through to enter this room, the simplicity before him gave him caution.

  Power would not be granted without test or sacrifice.

  Risens scoured every stone, every gap in the tight-fitting tiles. Nothing out of the ordinary. He gingerly tested his footing, finding no hidden pressure plates or traps. The more he observed, the less overwhelming the trepidation that had stayed his feet.

  In a crouch, on the balls of his feet, he stalked forward toward the statue that felt close enough to touch. A few steps in, the fallacy of his sense of security was exposed in painful measure. An unseen, invisible line suspended in the air before him. It clouded the room rapidly before taking shape into a solid wall. It thundered toward him, forcing him backward.

  He was a step too late.

  The feature that protruded from the center of the stone was the last image that came to his eyes before he was tossed mercilessly back through the portal.

  The smooth transition through the windStep that had brought him into the chamber was horribly transfigured as he spilled painfully across the rough stone floor of the Roost. He finally ground to a stop as his back slammed into the base of the stone pedestal holding one of the bowls and ravens aloft.

  When his head stopped spinning, it was the condescending looks of the raven statues that greeted him. Dusting himself off, he rose to his feet, glaring at the blackened portal that opened before him. The area had constricted, the wall shoving him from the chamber with a devastating force. Though he’d only seen it for a panicked instant, the creature at the center was clear. It was a hawk—not a raven—in mid-strike, its talons stretched out as it made its attack.

  He hadn’t noted a change in the floor’s surface. No tripwire was triggered, yet the alarm had been raised. The failure was again frustrating, though it reignited the flames of determination that burned within. He would persist until one way or another, he succeeded. He realized his time was not unlimited. How long he’d tarried here already was a potential concern he would need to address before long. There was still time before his required return to the king, yet he still needed to hunt down the courtesan. He could not go without sleep indefinitely, either—as used to short spells as he was. As if searching to see if the portal to the Raven’s Court would relay hints of the sunlight beyond, he swiveled his vision to the large portal. Out of the corner of his eye, the changes to the room were remarkable.

  He had severely reduced the number of flames in the small blackened pools as he had illuminated the various doorways. Two of the ravens had fled, flapping into the darkness above at his failed attempts to pick the locks. But now, upon his return, all the doors were once again fully shrouded except the one through which he’d just come. The flames floating in each of the pools had been replenished, and the ravens had returned to their perch above the pedestals. Their momentary bows were replaced again by judgmental stares.

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  An idea came to him, and he moved to the closest bowl, scooping out a pair of the three flames before splashing them to the floor. With only one remaining, he returned through the smaller portal that bore the Brand that marked on his chest. The windSteps returned him to the same narrow chamber, though the wall and the hawk carving had disappeared. Without investigating further, he slipped back into the shadow, returning to the Roost beyond.

  Risens smiled as he counted the three flames flickering atop the water, where only one had remained. The conjecture, though confounding, bore truth in his mind. Somehow, crossing the portal reset the Roost’s configuration. He assumed the same was true for the raven statues, though he’d test that at a later time. Presently, it was the small chamber and the secrets within that fueled his purpose.

  Returning to the chamber, he stalked forward again, paying close attention to his positioning in the room. This time, he was prepared when the air solidified before him, leaping back to the edge of the shadowed windStep as it crushed the space in the room. Now, it was the fearsome image of a coyote that protruded from the wall. Its hackles were raised, itsback arched, and its fangs bared. The natural minerals in the stone seemed to glisten, appearing as if its canines were wet with saliva.

  The sculpture stopped less than an arm’s span between his chest and the stone. On either side of the design, the wall matched the composition of the rest of the room, dark black and grey stone. He had no pathway forward, so after investigating the construction, he noted there were no noticeable imperfections or handles. He slipped back through the portal and into the Roost. He doubted it would be another key that granted access within this passage. There was something he was missing.

  He repeated the test, finding a similar result each time. However, with every attempt, the focus of the solidifying surface that ushered him from the room was different. After the coyote, it was the claws and screaming beak of an owl. Next, it was a small creature that looked like a weasel, though its ferocity was unquestionable. Then it was a large reptilian creature Risens didn’t recognize. After that, the figure of a man, legs crouched as it stalked from the stone. The string of the bow in its hand was pulled back to its limit, the arrow sighting its target. It was a hunter, readying himself for the lethal shot.

  Risens’ vision focused on the point of the arrow for a moment. There was a commonality between all the images. A message that he’d yet to understand.

  The hunter, like each of the other sculptures, was a predator. They hunted a prey. A specific prey.

  The solution dawned on him, so obvious he couldn’t believe he’d missed the connection. He rushed through the portal into the Roost, darting back into the wavering surface before it had stilled.

  The chamber that greeted him—same as the half dozen times he’d visited it—was unchanged. Pausing a step from the passage, he grinned at the feeling of concern that washed over him. The unexpected emotion was part of the test. It was a manufactured construct as much as the wall that had violently tossed him from the chamber. Settling his racing heart with a series of breaths, he focused on the Shadows Shroud, the gift of the Brand of the Avowal on his chest.

  The first of the glowing symbols flashed into his vision, one he now recognized. With steady strides, he pushed forward, walking along the center of the room. Less than ten paces in, he placed his palm flat against the polished surface of the rear wall.

  The room had been a test. A threat to the raven, the very one whose presence this temple was dedicated to. They were the predators, the enemies of the majestic birds, denying him entry while he bore the mask upon his face.

  With a satisfied sigh, he turned his attention to the statue perched on the wall. The raven bowed its head, reaching out with its beak to touch his arm.

  The pain that surged through his chest blurred his vision as it brought tears to his eyes. He stopped his awkward descent, crumpling to a knee, planting his hand on the ground. As it had when the Brand was freshly applied, the intense searing ended nearly as rapidly as it began, leaving him panting for breath.

  Even without visual confirmation, he knew the Brand of Avowal had been altered, though as his vision cleared, that wasn’t what made his heart rate surge with excitement. The glowing images flashing their countdown had changed. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but he could only hope his duration without the Shadows Shroud had increased.