Rava, a boy in his mid-teens with black shoulder-length hair tied up in a ponytail, dragged himself across the forest floor of Dorumdora, his cloak dragging in the damp soil around him. His leg was bent in a direction no leg should be bent. Broken.

  Surrounded by large, old, and gnarled trees, he crawled behind one to hide, sweat beading his furrowed brow. His teeth gritted hard enough to turn gravel into sand. Ragged breaths escaped him despite his effort not to make a sound.

  He gave his leg a cursory feel with his fingers, instantly flinching from the pain, growling through his gritted teeth and cursing "Fucking fuck” under his breath.

  He could hear footsteps approaching. They were confident and heading straight for him. He had been found. He was hanging his head in shame and surrender.

  "Useless boy, you should've seen the trap from ten paces!" An angry, rugged voice called out before its owner came into view. It was a man in his late fifties, dressed in leather armor embossed with a leafy pattern and a dark-green cloak identical to Rava's. His age did little to hide his ability. Everything about how he carried himself, how his eyes looked at you, and how his presence sent chills down your spine told you how deadly he was.

  "Now look at you, broken leg, pathetic," The man said as he prodded Rava's leg with the end of his bow, causing Rava to shout out in pain.

  "Don't waste your breath pleading with pain. She will never listen to you, learn to ignore her as she ignores your cries," He said as he looked at Rava, shaking his head in disappointment. "Set the bone," he instructed,

  "Lowan… I…I… I can't," Rava stuttered. Pleading eyes looking up at Lowan, he was not met with pity or mercy.

  "Set. The. Bone," Lowan ordered before turning away and walking off.

  When Lowan had disappeared out of sight, and Rava could no longer sense him, he pulled a dagger from a sheath on his belt. Its leather-wrapped handle was pockmarked all over. He placed it in his mouth and bit down, adding new marks to the leather as his hands moved to his broken bone.

  With a yank, he pushed the bone back into place, a pained scream escaping him as he bit down harder on the handle.

  It was night when Rava managed to get to the cabin that Lowan and he called home, a splint fashioned from sticks and rope tied around his leg and two long branches used for crutches. He sat down on a stump in front of the fire Lowan had started. Staring blankly into it.

  Lowan's judging eyes landed on him, then down on his splint, "Passable," was all he said before he went into the house.

  "Fuck you, old fucker," Rava whispered once Lowan had closed the door to the cabin, returning to stare into the fire, thankful for the warmth it provided. His profuse sweating from the pain and exertion had chilled him to his core.

  Lowan returned carrying a book, placing it in Rava's arms, "Now that you've so spectacularly incapacitated yourself, memorize this."

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  "Herbology, tinctures, potions, and salves," The title read as Rava looked it over.

  Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "Why!?" He shouted as he tossed the book to the ground, "What have I done to deserve this? Which of the thirteen hells is this? What manner of devil are you?" His confidence betrayed him as his voice trembled upon meeting Lowan's gaze.

  Lowan sighed and shook his head, "Why? Because you need to," he paused, scratching his chin as he weighed his words.

  "By no fault of your own, you're marked for death, and if you don't turn deadlier than your adversaries, you will die,"

  Rava's eyes widened, more lost than ever before, and Lowan could tell he needed to reveal more.

  "You're one of the last known survivors of the Ravensong family. It is said that one of you is blessed by Shora, the Raven, goddess of death. This 'blessing' apparently lets you grant an eternal death to even the enlightened,"

  "But, I might not even have the blessing, right? There might be others out there, no?" Rava said, desperation evident in his voice. Being targeted by the Enlightened meant certain death. They held the whole continent of Erudores, if not the entire world, in an iron grip. A grip they held not as kings, queens, or any other regent but by strength alone.

  Rava had been made to study the Enlightened. He knew that they had started as heroes, healing the sick, defending the weak, and giving counsel to rulers, and when they had the continent in their hands, things changed.

  Slowly at first. A dissident silenced and disappeared in the night, a church to some pagan god boarded up and closed for good. Then, in broader strokes, a village was wiped off the map, a city, a country, and finally, the whole Kathiri race.

  "Your mother is hopefully still out there. We split apart to better your chances of survival, but the Enlightened won't let any of the Ravensong survive," Lowan said coldly, stomping out any hope Rava might've carried.

  "And how do you know all this? Who are you really?" Rava said, trying to pierce through Lowan with his gaze, courage ablaze as the situation dawned on him.

  "I am Lowan Holder, the former duke of the Holder Dukedom and your grandfather," He said, shrugging.

  "But you're not a Ravensong?" Rava asked, anger tinging the edges of his voice, mad at himself for not having asked all this earlier. Questions usually came with some form of torturous exercise. But, oddly enough, they didn't today. So perhaps Lowan pitied the broken boy after all.

  "I am afraid this is a burden I cannot help you carry. I, along with your grandmother Agda, adopted your mother, Rivana, when she was just a baby and escaped the purge of Hindervale, your family's former seat of power," Lowan said, holding up two placating hands.

  "Why did we have to escape?" Rava asked after having gathered his thoughts with some deep, calming breaths.

  "Because your father, Hannodell, prince to the Glaedoc Empire, though probably emperor by now, found out what you and your mother are and ordered your death, the little shitstain always had delusions of grandeur. All it took was a promise from the Enlightened that he could become one of them. All the love he had for you and your mother, if ever there was any, fell away."

  "Your mother married Hannodell when the orcs of the Dundor Plains united and launched an attack on Holder Dukedom. Then, when we needed reinforcements, Hannodell-Fucking-Conrad came swooping in, offering just what we needed in exchange for Rivana's hand in marriage. Rivana volunteered, and I let it happen, the worst mistake I allowed to transpire," Lowan said as he spat.

  "Luckily, you and your mother were visiting us on your second birthday when a contact I had in Glaedoc's courts told me Hannodell had ordered your deaths. It didn't take long to convince Rivana of Hannodell's betrayal, and we set a plan in motion,"

  "Your mother flew north, whereto exactly I don't know, and you and I came here, to the south,"

  "So what do I do?" Rava asked pensively.

  "You walk through at least eleven of the thirteen hells, return the strongest, meanest, deadliest bastard to walk these lands, and kill the enlightened. Every. Last. One,” Lowan said, pointing at Rava with that stern finger only a seasoned teacher could use to make you feel utterly impotent.

  “Start by memorizing the book,” Lowan said as he shoved it back into Rava’s hands.