Shrieks pierced the air. I jumped from a bed, trying to figure out where I was and realized someone must have carried me into Emilia’s room. I rushed to the window and looked out on a scene of chaos below.
The clearing was full of men dressed in black leather armor, with faces painted black, rushing among the celebrating people.
Cries of surprise echoed through the clearing. “It’s the Ravens! The Ravens are here! To arms!”
The Rebels rushed to find weapons that had been abandoned for the wedding feast. It was nearly impossible to see the black-painted men in the darkness.
Then the three fires flared, and a wall of flames circled the clearing. Surprised by the sudden light, the Ravens faltered for a moment.
It was all the Rebels needed. They quickly turned on their attackers, some still without weapons. Cries rang out as the Ravens found themselves cut off from escape and without darkness to hide them. Everywhere the Rebels were furiously fighting the Ravens, who were now trying to flee.
Robert leapt onto a table. “Don’t let any escape. Cyrus can’t know we’re here!” he shouted. Then he was down again, rushing here and there to subdue the attackers.
Keegan was standing at the edge of the forest, holding the wall of flames, causing it to flare whenever one of the Ravens got too close to it. I could feel him channeling anger into it. It was so hot I could feel the heat from where I was standing looking down on the scene below.
Donavan seemed to be everywhere at once. He was using his Traveling abilities, and it looked as if everyone around him was in slow motion as he streaked through the fighters. It was clear from the way that he fought that he was quite familiar with the use of a sword.
Finally the Ravens were all subdued except for three who battled furiously then leapt through Keegan’s flames to flee through the forest.
“After them!” shouted Robert, rushing into the trees. Several of the Rebel warriors followed him, determined to stop the Ravens.
The remaining villagers assessed the situation, checking on fallen people, reassuring one another that they were uninjured.
Several cries rang out as the people below discovered that two of the Rebels had been killed in the initial attack, and several were wounded.
I hurried down the stairs to see what could be done. Emilia and Donavan were tending to the wounds of the Rebels, and I rushed to help them.
I gasped as I saw Tressa lying on the ground, unconscious. Donavan was tying a clean strip of cloth over a gash on her forehead that was seeping blood. She made no sound or movement. Ethan was standing nearby, wringing his hands in obvious dread.
I cautiously approached him. “Ethan.”
He whirled to look at me. His eyes were wild and full of anguish. “I cannot lose her,” he cried.
“Ethan, can you feel her? Can you feel her emotions?”
“Barely. She’s barely there.”
“But she is there. What is she feeling?”
“I can’t even tell.”
“Ethan, you have to get control of your own emotions. She can feel everything that you can, and I’m sure that this agony is not helping her.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. I could feel him relaxing, and then his love for her began to fill him up, slowly at first, but becoming stronger and stronger. It grew and flooded through Ethan into his wife.
For a long time, nothing seemed to happen. Once in a while, I felt the panic in Ethan begin to push its way to the surface, but each time he mastered it, shoving it to one side and pouring love and hope into his wife.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Tressa moaned and reached a hand to her head. Donavan quickly grasped her wrist and held it down. A few moments later, Tressa’s eyes flickered open. She saw Ethan and smiled weakly at him.
Ethan dropped on his knees, relief pouring through him as he held her hand and gently spoke her name, brushing her hair away from her face.
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“I could feel you there,” Tressa whispered, “pulling me back.”
Ethan said nothing, just looked at his wife with love blazing in his eyes as happiness threatened to overwhelm him.
As it became clear that Tressa would recover, I realized that my head was pounding, and I felt dizzy and slightly nauseous. I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes, wondering again what the Dreamkeeper had done to me.
By then the wounded Rebels had all been cared for and the two fallen had been taken to their dwellings to be prepared for burial.
Keegan was helping the villagers deal with the captured Ravens, several of whom had been knocked unconscious. The Rebels tied all of them hand and foot and posted a guard over them. I could feel anger towards them building all around me, but no harm was done to the prisoners.
People sat in little clusters, trying to reassure one another that Robert would catch the Ravens before they could get word to Cyrus about their location. The air of celebration had turned into one of sorrow and worry.
I saw Keegan leaning against a tree, and I went to stand next to him.
“That was amazing, Keegan,” I said.
Keegan shook his head. “It wasn’t enough. I should have stopped them. If they get through to Cyrus…” his voice trailed off, and I could feel frustration and failure coming from him.
I reached for his hand, and his emotions calmed. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I saw Robert carrying you up to Emilia’s tree. I was going to follow, but she said to leave you to sleep.”
I nodded. “Donavan said I was faerie drunk.”
“What is that?” Keegan asked.
“I’m not sure, but I have the worst hangover right now.”
Keegan laughed at that, and I leaned my head back against the tree, closing my eyes. “Maria, your eyes!” he exclaimed. “What happened?”
“The Dreamkeeper kissed them,” I answered, keeping my eyes closed, “and my hand.”
Keegan took my hand again, and I felt him stiffen as he turned it over, his breath catching.
I opened my eyes. “What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
Keegan pulled up the sleeve of his own shirt, showing a black tendril snaking around his arm, growing darker and darker the closer it was to my skin.
I gasped and pulled my hand out of his. “I’m sorry, Keegan,” I said.
“No, no. I’m fine,” he said quickly, taking my hand again. “Just look at the tattoos.”
I watched, and as the lines of his tattoo darkened against his skin, so did mine, and a few more leaves appeared on my arm.
I gasped. “What is happening?” I asked.
Keegan’s eyes were troubled. “I don’t know. I just know that tattoos like that usually mean something. They usually tie you to someone or something. Did he say anything?”
I struggled to remember. “He said he wanted to help me understand who I really am.”
Keegan shook his head. “I don’t trust Rainbow Elk Boy,” he said.
“Keegan! You can’t call him that!”
“Well, I didn’t catch his name, so…”
I could have told him Story’s name, but it didn’t feel like information I was supposed to share. “What do I do?” I asked.
“We’ll figure it out,” Keegan said.
I turned towards him. “Thank you,” I whispered, stepping closer to him.
Keegan opened his arms, and I stepped into his embrace. Immediately, I could feel the brand on his shoulder flare to life, sending its tendrils of pain through him. I started to pull away, but Keegan held me tightly, taking deep breaths, steadying himself.
We stood that way for what seemed like an eternity, and every moment Keegan had to fight against terror that was tied to the burn on his shoulder, but there was an undercurrent of joy that I could feel him latch onto, and that carried him through.
Finally we pulled apart. My cheeks were wet with tears. Keegan brushed them gently away. He reached for my hand and held onto it as we walked back to the village clearing.
Hours later, Robert and those with him returned. The Rebels rushed to the group, demanding news.
“They got away,” Robert growled. “It won’t be long now ‘til Cyrus finds this place.”
All traces of the earlier revelry were gone. The villagers grew silent and pensive as they discussed what should be done in the days to come.
After several long minutes, Robert stood. “We’ve all known that Cyrus would eventually find this place,” he said. “We’ve known we’d have to face him. Yes, this makes our situation more dangerous and forces us to go to battle before we’d like, but no matter. We fight for good and life, for our families and our world, while Cyrus looks to destroy all good things. We cannot give up. We must face him, no matter the cost, and we must win.”
There were several cries of agreement as Robert sat down, but soon the only sound to be heard was whispers as the villagers quietly discussed their fate. They knew that it was unlikely that they would win this fight, but there was no talk of giving up or going into hiding. They would stand against the evil Cyrus had become until they defeated it, or died trying.

