Risens let out an involuntary display of emotion, screaming as the priceless relic he’d only just retrieved fell to the stone tile of the Raven’s Court. The casual indifference that Mother Raven had shown to toss the precious egg was shocking. Panic surged through him as a new fear showed its ugly face: had he been deceived again?

  What had he done?

  What had she done?

  Lunging forward, he dove for the egg with his fingers outstretched. If he could catch it, to cradle it, to protect it from shattering on the rock, perhaps he might…

  He scraped painfully across the ground, a meter too short.

  The crystal egg’s impact on the floor was palpable. It erupted in a shower of scarlet, peppering his arms and dinging off the metal of his mask.

  He’d carried the item across the city. Though its physical weight caused him no strain as he traveled through the alleys, the worry over its condition had plagued him. Now, it was all for nought. The ground trembled with a force far greater than the sound of its shattering, which was little more than the quiet crunch of an eggshell underfoot.

  But the force of its destruction hammered into him with a blacksmith’s strength. He was helpless to resist as he was wrenched up from where he’d lay sprawled on the ground. Like a stray rock kicked along the street, he was tossed across the Raven’s Court. Bouncing hard off the cracking tiles, he rolled once before slamming into the opposite wall. Chunks of mortar and rocks rained down around him as the derelict structure resonated with his clashing weight.

  Through a vision blurred by dizziness and pain, he watched Mother Raven stand there, entirely unfazed. She had been unmoved by the detonation that had thrown him mercilessly. Her head was angled back, eyes locked on the night sky overhead. Her arms were outstretched, her feathered cloak rippling in the grip of a breeze that seemed to only surround her.

  He took stock of the court and realized that the force that had such a dramatic impact on him hadn’t disturbed anything else apart from the loose stones and crumbling mortar from where Risens’s body hit the wall. He struggled to regain his footing, his legs, arms, and back aching.

  He saw on her face the beginning stages of a grin. When their eyes met, there was no hiding the sheen of moisture in his.

  “What have you done?” Risens lamented.

  “Only what must, fledgling.”

  In the wake of the explosion, a haze descended over the court. At first, he mistook it for a trick of his blurry eyes, yet now,he recognized it for what it was. An unusual glowing red particulate hung in the air. Shining like stars in the night, untold thousands floated listlessly throughout the confines of the Raven’s Court. Risens extended his hand toward one of the twinkling particles. Like a fire bug, it scattered from his touch, though it didn’t retreat far.

  Pain radiated up his legs, every step agonizing. It felt as if the pressure of a great hand squeezed his torso. A few steps ahead, Mother Raven crouched slowly, inspecting something on the ground. The shape, the object that had moved within the crystal, remained indistinguishable, yet it squirmed on the stone where the egg that encased it had shattered. He expected to see the jagged pieces of the crimson crystal strewn around the tiles, though there were no traces of its presence.

  Gritting his teeth, he moved cautiously to his right across the court. The red dust shifted as he approached. In his wake,they sealed the path behind him as he staggered forward. He stopped when he reached the kneeling Mother Raven. Her attention was no longer focused on the object, but on him.

  A burning sense of expectation lit her eyes. His gaze only lingered on her for a moment before it was drawn to the object, which remained at her feet. A dark haze, like a thin cloud of mist, floated around it, obscuring the details of its shape. Mother Raven pulled her eyes from him, leaning her head close to the ground. As she exhaled a short whispered breath,the cloud dissipated, wafting away into nothingness as it caught in the breeze from her pursed lips.

  A thin black feather, no longer than the length of Risens’s index finger, took its place. Risens’s curiosity mounted as he inspected its glossy shimmer.

  “A feather?” He couldn’t hide the twinge of disappointment that flavored his question.

  “Again, you make assumptions only using your eyes. You do not see the complexity of the movements.” Mother Raven’s tone was sharp, though she never took her eyes off the delicate feather on the stone. “This is not just a feather but far more than you could even imagine. Pick it up because I cannot.”

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  “Me?”

  “Only you.”

  Risens hesitated.

  “It is not meant for me, fledgling, but for you and you alone.”

  Risens bent, inspecting the small black feather. His gaze drifted from it to where Mother Raven perched, watching expectantly, then back again. His overpowering curiosity was mixed with an insatiable desire to grab the object, the seemingly banal item.

  Not unlike the pull—that alarming lure of power that had drawn him to the doors within The Roost—Risens could feel the strength and importance of the item. He understood without explanation that the seemingly ordinary quill was far more consequential than it appeared.

  Between finger and thumb, he collected the feather, Mother Raven’s gaze following intently as he rose. Risens carefully rolled it between his fingers, inspecting the underside before turning it over again. The closely set, silky barbs reflectedthe light of the moon and stars and the glowing red orbs above as if they were a solid, unbreaking surface.

  He opened his mouth to speak when the first sensation reached his brain. What started as a mere tingle, a slight prick against his skin, flashed into unbearable agony. Around him, the glowing red particles suspended in the air started to move. Each pulsed brighter. Their lazy hovering shifted to animated motion as they circled around him.

  One by one, they broke the orbit that ringed him, darting back to the feather locked into his grip. Pulled by an attraction he could not explain, as each shining particle connected with the feather, another brutal stab of excruciating pain radiated through him. Unlike the localized feeling like a needle on a finger, every impact coruscated through every fiber of his being.

  He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t move. His feet were frozen to this cracked stone tile; particle after particle slammed into him. With an unconscionable force, thousands of tiny red orbs flashed through the air. His eyes blurred with tears, and he could no longer track the individual motion beyond when they separated from the wild spin that enveloped him.

  His thoughts grew unfocused, untethered from the reality around him. The pain moved beyond agony, replaced by a torture that overwhelmed his ability to process the sensation. As quickly as it began, the last of the red orbs rejoined the feather.

  With the finality of its movement, the affliction ceased.

  Blinking the moisture from his tear-clouded eyes, the indistinct silhouette of a hunched, cloaked figure resolved. Mother Raven stood before him, watching with an excited gaze.

  Her eyes were not focused on his, but somewhere lower, directed entirely at his hand where he had held the feather.

  He followed her eyes to his outstretched arm. The feather, the disguised item concealed within the crimson crystal egg,was gone. The skin of his index finger no longer bore its natural hue. Where flesh, slightly scarred by the unfortunate reality of his trade, had been, the whole of his finger was now covered in an intricate black marking. Much like an elaborate tattoo, it appeared as if the feather he just held had been imprinted onto his skin. The design and the quality were unique and impressive. As he rotated his finger, it appeared that the feather remained in the same position. Unlike its ability to disguise its form within the egg’s protective shell, it now worked to ensure its identity was unmistakable.

  In the wake of the agonizing application—the hammering blows from the particles—the all-consuming pain faded.

  After a moment, his questioning gaze turned to Mother Raven.

  “It is as it should be,” she whispered. “The Quillkey now belongs to you. With it, unconditional access is now in your hands.”

  The explanation was vague and curious. Access to where?

  “To the Roost?”

  “The Quillkey will grant you access to the Roost and places beyond,” she responded.

  “Its for a door? What door?” He scanned the walls of the Raven’s Court, finding them unchanged beyond the further crumbling caused by the impact of his body.

  “Whichever you’d choose,” she noted. “The key will lead you to a location without place or a proper name. Its true name will come when you choose one.”

  She stepped close, collecting his wrist in her hands. Risens felt the pinch of her fingernails pressing into his skin as she twisted his hand to view the Quillkey imprinted on his finger.

  “When I choose?” Risens repeated. “I don’t understand.”

  “The door will open when and where you choose it,” she instructed. “Be forewarned, until you close it, the portal will be accessible by all. Take care with whom you grant access, for uncertainty and danger lies within.”

  The onslaught of information was too much. “How? How do I open the door?”

  Mother Raven stepped back, tilting her head slightly while her lips turned into a frown.

  “You are the key,” she chided while tracing an arc in the air before her. “Must I do everything for you, fledgling? Create the door that you will enter.”

  Risens bit back a retort and stepped back from where Mother Raven stood. He looked down at his marked hand. If he was to open the door anywhere he chose, how was he to do it? He expected questioning her further would only lead to more frustration.

  Moving past her to the edge of the Raven’s Court, he faced one of the decrepit walls, staring beyond, not at the crumbling stone. Holding his finger out, Risens traced a crude outline—the upper peak of a rounded door.

  He waited, watching the stones. Anticipation brewing within morphed into anxiety as the breaths passed while nothing happened. Without instruction or guidance, he had no way to know how to open the door, merely conjecture and chance.

  A minor distortion in the air caught his attention, and the wall before him seemed to ripple as if the air itself was fluid. Where his finger marked, the disturbance followed as if a line of tight stitches holding together a taut fragment of cloth were rapidly removed. Without a sound, the wall peeled back to reveal utter darkness.

  It was like staring into a starless night. Unlike the windSteps, the opening was still. No ripples or gently undulating waves disturbed the surface, rolling gently across its face. He understood with a glance that this was different from the portal that led to the Roost as well.

  He turned his gaze to Mother Raven. “Where does it lead?”

  “There’s only one way for you to find out, Fledgling.”

  Risens took a step toward the mysterious inky portal. He stopped as he reached the edge of the void and turned back toward his cryptic guide.

  “Will you accompany me?” he asked.

  “If that is your desire.”