Ravena: A love written in Ash

Chapter 6: The Awakening of Shadows**

The palace was bleeding.

Steel screamed against steel.

Blood spilled like rivers across marble floors once sacred.

The cries of dying knights pierced the air—ghostly, endless, a song of war.

Ravena ran.

Her heart thundered.

Not in her chest—in her ears, in her throat, in her soul.

> "Where is the King?" she cried, breathless, grabbing the arm of a soldier soaked in crimson.

"Grand Hall... he's fighting... the invader!"

She didn't listen to the rest.

She didn't wait.

She flew past shattered glass and bodies too broken to rise again.

She slammed into the throne room doors—splintering them open.

And then... she saw him.

Her father, King Aelric, blade locked in brutal combat.

With the man from the forest.

But worse—*worse*—the prince sat lazily on the throne.

Like death in silk, watching everything with ice in his gaze.

> "FATHER!"

Her scream cracked the air.

The king turned. His face—bloodied, weary, *wrecked*.

But he still looked at her like a father.

> "Why are you here?! Run, Ravena—RUN!"

Then the blade came.

A savage strike.

Right to his chest.

Aelric collapsed.

> "No!" Ravena sobbed, tearing her sword free. She charged.

> "Fiery," the enemy sneered. "But foolish. You should've stayed hidden, little princess."

She fought like wildfire—desperate, wild, *alive*.

But he was stronger. Faster.

And two soldiers grabbed her, slamming her against the wall.

A blade kissed her throat.

> "Last words, Your Majesty?" the man growled, his sword raised above Aelric's broken body.

> "NO! Please—*no!*"

> "I'm begging you…"

Her voice cracked.

Her soul cracked.

Her gaze darted through the hall.

> "General Kael...?" she whispered.

There.

Crushed beside the throne.

Gone.

Something inside her screamed.

A scream that didn't escape her lips—but thundered inside her bones.

> "NOOOOOOO!"

The blade fell.

The king was dead.

And something inside Ravena shattered.

Her eyes… turned black.

Not from rage.

Not from magic.

From the storm born of grief.

Her body pulsed with fury.

Smoke poured from her veins.

Her hands glowed—a cursed light burning through her skin.

She grabbed the soldiers holding her—lifted them like dolls.

> "What is this?! What *is* she?!" one cried.

And then… with a voice not hers, not human…

She *screamed*.

The men burst into ash.

The hall fell into paralyzed silence.

The prince on the throne leaned forward.

No longer amused.

Not smirking.

Watching her like a man who'd just seen a god blink.

She was the girl they had called a curse.

But now—

She was something else.