The Raven Wars: The Raven Dreams, #2

By Alysia Seymour

Eva is a Vitalist born into a prophecy she'd much rather forget. The one chosen to end the darkness in her world and the human world of Dysmortia. But when her first attempt—while believed successful for a short time—was unsuccessful, Eva wants nothing more than to return to a life free from the war that's plaguing her people. Lives have already been lost, some of them because of her own failures, and Eva can't live with herself if anyone else dies because of her missteps. 

Yet, despite her efforts, something stirs in the night. Together, Eva and Simon quickly discover that the darkness they thought they'd ended is, in fact, still thriving in the depths of the earth, turning humans into monsters, and much worse.

As more secrets begin to reveal themselves—kept by the leaders of the Vitalists—Eva searches for a way to defeat the darkness for good. But the most disturbing part is that the enemy she killed, fulfilling her prophecy, may still be lurking in the shadows. If Eva doesn't find him, and end him, both worlds will be lost forever.

To make everything worse, Eva's own brother, Isaak, slips toward the black magic at an alarming rate and when a black raven appears before her in Dysmortia, Eva is faced with the most troublesome fact of all. She must lead her people into battle once more, and fight this black raven to the death. 

She only hopes it isn't too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alysia Seymour
• Release date: Oct 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393902874

Alysia Seymour

Alysia Seymour is a fantasy author who loves to explore stories through a spiritual and internal focused lens. She believes fantasy stories are the gateway to our imaginations, not only within fantasy worlds, but within our own lives. Through her novels, Alysia uses her own life experiences as her story ideas and to create real, vulnerable characters. After writing three novels in this way, and coaching her clients to do the same, Alysia decided to write a book on the subject of the internal writer’s journey to make this idea more accessible to aspiring fiction writers. She writes in a straightforward, honest, and unveiling way that allows the readers to absorb the ideas presented in a way that’s personal to them. Through this book, Alysia guides you to a new perspective on what it means to be a fiction author, exposing the side of the writing journey that isn’t as popular to talk about—the internal journey.

Book preview

Prologue

Isaak

The darkness is more than just dark . . . it’s warm against my skin, like I’m walking through the center of an invisible fire, hoping to die so I’m not consumed by pain anymore. The air is thick. My lungs contract making my breathing impossible.

What if I go the wrong way and face something worse than death?

I stand still. Each breath comes with a struggle, and the sound of it echoes like a scream in the black void that surrounds me. Though fear runs through every inch of my being, I feel something else, calling to me, telling me to come, that I belong here in this humid, dark place where time and life cease to exist.

I’m not alone.

I hold my breath, unmoving, and listen. There’s nothing at first, but slowly . . . and quietly, a sound enters my senses. A low thrumming noise. It pulses steadily, surrounding me entirely and my body involuntarily relaxes. The thrumming grows louder. It’s as if it senses my reaction. Ahead, the thick blackness lifts enough for me to see an outline of a great shadow . . . just faintly . . . and far away.

An urge to move toward this massive shadow overcomes me. A small voice in my head tells me to fight it, to not let my legs carry me through this dark unknown place, but this voice overpowered by something else. My feet move, one after the other, toward the shadowy mass far in the distance. The ground becomes hot. I want to run away, back to my unconscious self sleeping in my bed at home, but a force enters my thoughts and removes the fear.

A strange sensation that I belong here, more than the home I know in Amortera, comes over me. I can’t explain my reactions. They don’t feel like me.

But why does it feel so good?

With determination, I move forward at a faster pace, the burning ground no longer a concern. The thrumming echoes throughout the void I’ve succumbed to and I realize the massive outline ahead is burned to light with a flicker of orange.

My feet, or whatever power is controlling my body, carries me toward this faded light. My breath quickens until the outline of the shadow comes into focus and I spot a bridge ahead. Tall metal poles sharpened to a point rise on either side of it acting as barriers from the black pit below.

Come, a deep voice says, reverberating off the stone walls which I now vaguely see. My vision adjusts and I notice that I’ve just stepped out from a narrow black tunnel into an expansive underground fortress. The voice speaks again, deeper this time, so it’s nearly a growl. Come my boy, you are needed here.

I’m pulled by this voice, whether by choice or force I can’t decide. I step onto the bridge. It’s cooler than the ground behind me, the open crevice below wafts hot air which brushes against my face. I stare over the edge, resting each hand on one of the poles to lean forward. There’s nothing to see down there but blackness. The thrumming noise is coming from down there. I back away and continue over the bridge, eager to put space between me and the black hole.

When my foot lands on the solid ground on the other side, the fortress that was just shadow moments ago lights up. It’s enough to make me turn and run despite the pull I feel deep within my core. An invisible force stops my body from moving away. Without my consent, my feet rest side-by-side, turn me around, and walk me back toward the fortress side of the bridge.

Who are you? I say aloud. Why am I here?

You belong here, the voice answers in a low drone, leading me forward. You belong with me.

A large steel gate opens to an expansive underground city cast in clouds of smoke. It stands black and bold, several levels high. The blackened earthly substance it’s made from could only have come from the depths of the earth. It looks like stone, but not. It’s rough and grated.

The most disturbing part though are the dark figures . . . not walking, but floating around in masses.

Come, the voice echoes again. You belong here.

A pull in my chest urges me forward again. My mind fights against the voice.

I don’t belong here. I need to go back home, to Amortera.

But my body says I do belong here with each step it takes, willing what awaits inside that tall tower. I pass through the gate.

I should wake up any time now.

Maybe it isn’t a dream.

1

Eva

Her shrill voice rings in my ear. I try to tune her out, but it’s no use. I’d much rather be amid the Tempests again than sitting here, listening to my people complain. I snap myself out of that thought as soon as it enters my head and instead, focus my attention back to the hall. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from saying something I’ll regret.

What do ya expect me to do? Aunt Mady exclaims in frustration. These boys are ruinin’ my land and I’ve about had enough of their nonsense. Her anger reverberates through the empty hall, a vein bulging from her temple.

This is the third time my aunt has been in to see Simon and I during council about this same complaint. They’re destroying her son’s moss collections, she says. Not to mention her garden. The first time she approached us about this problem, I looked into it personally. She walked me through every inch of her land where the moss had died overnight—after Gavit had so diligently planted it there, no less—and her garden, where plants were wilting on the dirt.

She argued which boys she suspected—a few who would never play with Gavit because they thought him too strange—so, I went to each of their homes to question them. All three of them denied knowing anything of the sort and seemed confused by my questions. The second time she came to us about it, Simon and I made sure there was someone watching her land at all times to catch the culprit. They didn’t observe anyone ever going near her home or her garden. It was unlike any Vitalist, even the young ones, to treat another’s belongings with such carelessness.

Aunt Mady, I start, trying to keep my voice calm, we’ve talked about this. No one is bothering your land. I fold my arms over my chest hoping to appear confident in the finality of my words. Being elected as one of the council leaders puts me in a spotlight I would rather avoid, and in a position that’s unnatural for me. I would much prefer to clean up waste from the river than sit at the head of this table right now.

You missed something! She pounds her fist on the table. Are you calling me a liar?

Of course not, says Simon. Everyone in Amortera knows that my aunt is a little slight, but it doesn’t faze Simon one bit. He speaks with calm assuredness. All we’re saying is that we haven’t found what, or who, is doing it. He reaches over and rests his hand on hers, which clench together on the table. We will do all we can to figure this out. I promise.

Aunt Mady looks like she is about to argue again, but holds her tongue. She collapses back into her chair, looking tired. I eye her carefully. I’ve wanted to ask her something since she started coming to us with this problem. But I’ve held back for fear of offending her, or Gavit. I don’t want it to come out wrong. But now seems like the time.

Aunt Mady, are you sure it isn’t Gavit causing the moss to die?

Her olive colored eyes slant, sizing me up.

"There’s no possible way that my Gavit is doing this, she says through gritted teeth. We took you and your brother in, cared for you, when you had nowhere else to go. And now you want to accuse my boy? Someone cruel is killing my plants and destroying Gavit’s moss, and I will find out who it is." She stands up and points a chubby, wrinkled finger at me. Without another word, she turns and walks the long stretch from the head of the Hall of Meeting toward the entryway and disappears.

Aunt Mady! I call after her. That’s not what I meant. Who knew guilt could set in so fast. When she doesn’t answer, I hunch my shoulders, resting my head in my hands.

A warm hand touches me gently on my back. Don’t worry about her, Simon says in a soft voice—the voice that sends relaxation through my body. She knows you love her. She’ll come around. Besides, you weren’t the only one thinking it.

I sigh. I just don’t understand why we didn’t see Gavit out there, if it was him. Of course it couldn’t have been him, or we would have seen him. I don’t know what I was thinking.

You’ve got a lot on your mind right now, and there’s an explanation to this, Eva, he says. It’s possible the observers we sent missed something. Your aunt will be fine. It’s just a few plants.

I lean into his shoulder. He’s right, as always. I’m overthinking this whole situation. Open council days wear on me, listening to complaints or arguments, most of them petty. I would think, after all we’ve been through, after all we’ve lost, they would be grateful simply for being alive. Yet, just the opposite seems to have happened. Everyone is so on edge, and they want to blame anybody else for their own problems. Then again, maybe this is their way of clinging to what they know, distracting themselves from the horrible memories the war left with us.

Why did Amortera choose me for a council leader?

I saved Amortera, that’s what they’re saying—why they believe I’m fit to be their new leader since the Sages died. But it just isn’t true. I’m not fit to lead anyone. Simon on the other hand, leading seems to come natural to him. It surprised me when they named him as their vote for a leader of Amortera since he’s an outsider, a Rebel, from Dysmortia. After the event by the river, when he died and came back to life transformed, that seemed to be enough for Vitalists to consider him worthy. He was always worthy in my eyes.

Let’s go, I say.

Simon smiles, sending a wave of warmth through me.

Do you think Hazel is handling the preparations all right? he asks as we step into the sunlight.

I think she’s driving Mindel up the wall, I say, with a small laugh. It’s only a few hours away now. Surely she’s feeling the pressure. We better get over there.

From the Hall of Meeting, I see down into the Valley where Vitalists busy themselves for the day, most still working on repairs of their homes from the damage of the war. It almost looks as it did before the evil hands of the Tempests touched our lands. The Tree of Gathering has been restored and even now, I can see in the distance Vitalists completing their daily Meditation beneath it.

Despite physical appearances returning to normal in Amortera, the Vitalists themselves seem to have a much harder time going back to the way things were since the darkness touched our lands. I think of Hazel who can’t sit still for more than a few minutes without the need to find something to do. It’s like her mind won’t allow here to be quiet for too long.

I understand. Even though my dreams have stopped since we killed Amicus, the memories are as clear as day in my mind’s eye. Some of them I’d rather forget altogether, only I don’t use busy tasks to preoccupy my thoughts. It’s not that simple. Nothing seems to help my memories fade away. I made too many decisions that led to too much loss.

Eva? Simon stops me.

I don’t have to say anything. He already knows. He’s grown used to my distracted moments, and he knows why they happen. Without a word, he kisses me on the forehead.

Simon, Eva!

On our way to Hazel’s home, Ren Lata, Amortera’s newest Caregiver, waves from his garden. He walks over to us, his stout posture making it a slower process than most.

Hey Ren. I greet him with a smile. Ren is one of the few Vitalists who has taken the changes since the war. While he’s not a fighter, he’s adjusted his new position as a Caregiver very graciously.

I was wondering if I could have a moment? he asks. I want to show you something. He leads us to his front garden. I take a a minute to realize what he’s showing us until he steps aside and I see the wilted herbs and vegetables scattered throughout his garden.

When did this happen? Simon asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was during the night because they were fine before I went to bed. When I came out this morning, they were all like this. He scratches his bald head. I thought you should know, given Eva’s aunt and all . . .

You’re sure you didn’t see or hear anything last night? I ask. He must have an answer to this riddle. If he doesn’t, I don’t want to think of what possibilities that brings up.

Ren shakes his head. I’m a light sleeper. I woke up a while before sunrise and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

So much for answers. Simon bends down to get a closer look at the plants. It looks exactly the same as what’s happening at Aunt Mady’s. He stands and peers over the hill to where her house is. She’s all the way over there. Strange that it would happen to both of your gardens at random.

Ren shakes his head again. That’s just it. It doesn’t seem to be so random anymore. He points to his neighbors’ yard. It happened to them last night too. I notice for the first time, the dying plants in the neighboring yard.

Has anyone else in your area been having trouble like this? I ask, a sinking feeling growing in my stomach now.

That’s why I wanted to talk to you. It seems to be spreading, whatever is causing this. It’s not just my neighbors, but other homes of some of my friends.

Thanks for showing this to us, Ren, Simon says. We’ll look into it after tonight’s celebration.

Sure thing, Ren replies. Good luck with the preparations. I know it will be a welcome escape from more reasons than one.

I give Ren a nod and walk with Simon around the bend toward Hazel’s home.

Something’s happening, I say.

He grunts quietly. It’s clear his thoughts have gone to the same place as mine.

Hazel uses all her free time occupied with something, as if being a new mother doesn’t keep her busy enough. This celebratory gathering is her latest challenge—dinner and music in the Meadow. She’s recruited several helpers, including me and Simon.

Hazel looks frazzled when she opens the door to her home, her rose colored eyes filled with worry. Oh good! she says, without a greeting. You’re here. She steps aside to let us in. Strewn all over her kitchen table, and spilling over onto the floor are decorations. She’s already turned her focus to arranging some flowers in a pot, seeming to care less that we’ve arrived.

Hey Hazel . . . says Simon, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him. She continues to move the flowers around in different positions until she finally decides the yellow flower looks best in the middle.

Are you sure you have enough help Hazel? I ask.

Yes, yes, she says, waving her hand in the air, moving over to a large lantern filled with fireflies, like she’s trying to mentally count them. Simon glances at me with a silent knowing. Typical Hazel behavior when something is bothering her. She wants to stay busy to keep her mind from thinking about it.

Hazel, I know why you want to have this gathering for everyone, and that’s very good of you, but this looks like a lot of work.

She shoots me a look, setting the lantern of fireflies back down on the side table. With one easy movement of her hand, she sends a soft trickle of air into the lantern, triggering the fireflies to lift and light up magically. You’re here now, she says, with flustered annoyance. You can help me. Mindel is in the back filling up another wagon of food and decorations to take to the Meadow. Simon, why don’t you go help him?

Simon looks as if he’s struggling not to chuckle, but I can tell he finds this humorous. Of course, he says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. See you in a while.

Once he’s outside, I turn back to Hazel who is already working hard again. No one else is coming, are they? I ask. The others who agreed to help you set up.

She throws her hands up, causing some nearby hand-painted leaves to flurry about from their proper place. I assume not, or they would have been here by now. Which reminds me, where is that pesky brother of yours? He was supposed to be here hours ago, with Aron.

Good question. It’s not like him to be late for something when he’s promised to show up. I’m sure they will be here soon. Hazel isn’t listening. She’s already walked out of the room.

Baby Ivy sleeps in a basinet, four months old now. She’s as beautiful as Hazel with Mindel’s dark hair. So peaceful, she doesn’t notice her mother buzzing around the house, finishing up last minute touches on decorations and food for the evening gathering.

Hazel comes back into the kitchen, preoccupied with counting something out loud, while twirling her hair around her finger. Hazel, are you good? I ask. I mean, are you feeling all right? She stops mid count and looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time standing in her house.

Of course, she says with a smile, relaxing her arms to her side. I’m great, Eva. Everything’s great.

I’m not sure I believe her. You and Mindel?

Mindel is a brooding individual. Difficult to get along with. At least, that’s what I’ve found to be true since Hazel married him. Even just last year, he made Hazel feel bad for wanting to help me when my dreams were particularly horrible. So much so, that she kept it a secret from him.

Mindel and I are fine, Hazel says. Her voice is sharp, making me believe that things aren’t actually fine.

Hazel, you can talk—

I said everything is great, Eva. Can you please drop it? She snaps at me, but quickly recovers. I’m sorry, it’s just . . . let’s just get this ready to go, okay?

Okay, I say. Another time maybe. What do you need me to do? Just name it and it’s done.

2

Eva

It’s an hour from sunset when Mindel, Hazel, Simon and I put the finishing touches on the Meadow. It’s stunning—tree stumps made into tables each with their own tiny firefly-filled lantern to provide light, branches shaped and tied together with strips of softened wood, winding up to form a beautiful vase at each table with a single flower inside.

The platform the Sages used for the weapons has been cleaned and set up for the musicians. Three tables that stretch ten feet long each are filled with varying sorts of fruit, nuts, teas, soups, and pies. The last touch Hazel adds to the Meadow are brilliant lights strung over the tables, made from thin lily pads folded into a ball with a firefly placed in each one.

I’d say a job well done, says Simon.

Yes, I agree. And none of it would have been possible without Hazel.

Hazel, blushes but looks proud of herself for making this vision come true. For her own reasons, it’s something she needed to do. The last few months have been difficult and some Vitalists haven’t handled the emotional scars well.

I send energy to my amulet and light everyone else’s, calling them to the gathering. It’s warmth against my skin and amber glow lets me know when the invitation to the Vitalists is complete. Those around me look down to their own amulets, which light in response. All except for Simon, who doesn’t wear one . . . yet. Since his father was a Vitalist, he will complete the Bonding Ritual and receive his own amulet in time.

Vitalists trickle their way into the Meadow. The first few gasp in appreciation when they arrive.

They love it Hazel, I say.

She seems to relax, smiling at everyone’s reaction as they approach and find seats. Ivy smiles too, cradled in her mother’s arms. We take the table up front by the stage, Hazel and Mindel with baby Ivy, and me and Simon. Six seats were saved, but there’s only four of us. Where are Isaak and Aron? They were supposed to be here hours ago to help set up.

He’ll be here, Simon whispers in my ear. And he’ll have a good reason for why he’s late. I nod, knowing he’s right. Isaak wouldn’t fall back on his word if it wasn’t for something important.

Simon squeezes my hand before releasing it and stepping onto the stage. Welcome everyone! Thank you for joining us on this special night of celebration. Applause echoes in response. We have food, music and dancing so I hope you enjoy. And remember to stop by and thank Hazel for making this possible for all of us. She has made it very special for every one of you.

Vitalists clap louder this time, faces turning to our table and smiling at Hazel. She blushes bright red, tears in her eyes.

So let’s get this night started! I better see you all dancing, we have a lot to celebrate tonight. Simon laughs, his eyes twinkling in the firelight as they look over the crowd of people and everyone gives him a big round of applause. Nearly all the Vitalists have arrived.

You’re a natural, I say, when he’s back beside me. I could never engage them like that.

He puts his arm around me and pulls me close to him. Of course you could, he replies, like there is no doubt it his mind. You just have to believe you can. I feel the warmth of his breath on my ear. I believe you can. I look up with a smile and kiss him.

Whoa, too much love over here.

I pull away, Isaak grinning at me, Aron beside him looking apologetic.

Where have you been? I ask.

The grin falls from his face. He turns to Hazel who looks livid. I’m sorry Hazel. I know how important tonight is to you. Aron takes her seat not making eye contact with anyone.

It couldn’t have anything to do with getting back at me since I accidentally slipped Eva’s ‘secret’ last year, could it? Hazel snaps.

Isaak looks confused, then recognition reaches his eyes. Hazel, come on, you know I’ve been over that for a long time now. I apologized to you for how I acted.

I look from Isaak to Hazel, who still looks hurt. Hazel, don’t let this ruin your night. Isaak doesn’t hold that against you. She shoots me one of her ‘butt-out-of-it’ looks, clearly not ready to let this go.

Then please, tell me what was so important you couldn’t be here? she asks him with an icy tone in her voice. Isaak presses his lips together, the joy from his usual carefree demeanor gone.

I can’t, he says plainly. I watch him as he stares to the ground, shifting uncomfortably.

Hazel, why don’t we forget about this? I say. Isaak and Aron clearly feel awful about not being here to help. Just look at them.

Hazel stands from her seat with Ivy still clutched in her arms, asleep. Eva, this is between me and Isaak, she says firmly. When he’s ready to tell me his good reason for not being here, I will gladly listen. Then she walks away to join a conversation with another table. Mindel stays in his seat a moment longer, glancing around at each of us as if thinking about something to say. Then he gives a shrug and follows Hazel.

Well? I ask Isaak. His ability to just brush Hazel off without an answer has annoyed me.

He looks at me from across the table like a son looking at his mother, who just reprimanded him. Not now Eva, he says. Then he gets up, grabbing Aron by the hand and pulling her to the dance area. I watch them for a while. I can understand why he didn’t want to confide in Hazel, dramatic as she can be, but why not tell me? Isaak spins Aron in a circle. She looks awkward on her feet.

Do you think it’s anything to worry about? Simon asks, watching me watch my brother. My common sense tells me to let it go. That Isaak is just being his typical carefree self. But a tiny nag deeper down in my