Crossing through the portal was unlike anything Risens had ever felt. Through the windSteps had been discomforting as a youth, he had grown accustomed to them. The rush of wind, the disorienting spinning had become second nature. At this point, the portal that transported him to the Roost, the intense speed, the crushing void, was the most disquieting. The unbearable chill was growing less offensive with every passage.

  The journey to this place—which already in his mind he referred to as The Barren—was far less jarring. As if he closed his eyes in the familiar confines of the Raven’s Court, he blinked them open to find himself in an entirely different space—a location that defied logic and expectation.

  Risens stood on a small patch of land floating in a sea of nothingness.

  Barren, indeed.

  However, where nothing had just been, now, a few dozen meters in front of him, a small, weathered, yet disturbingly familiar house stood among a surrounding field of wild grasses.

  The structure was in rough shape, showing signs of extreme disuse as if it had stood vacant for ages. In most spots, the thatched roof had collapsed, exposing the internal wooden supports. The walls, formed of natural boards, were weathered and strained to the point of bowing. Its door stood ajar, crooked and leaning against the siding for support.

  Something about the house sparked a disturbing sentiment that rumbled from within. The dilapidated building reminded him of the aged panels and cobbled-together door over the ruined entrance to Pale Pink’s Pub.

  One small window graced the wall facing him, revealing only hints of the room beyond through the jagged outline of the clouded, broken pane.

  To either side of the building, the land stretched out for nearly a dozen meters, covered in a gently waving sea of wild grasses and low, scraggly bushes. As if, at one time in the distant past, the land had been worked by human hands, there were hints of development among the wild growth, though any fences that had once stood were long lost to the ravages of time.

  It was a field, left for abandon.

  Abruptly, beyond the final blades of grass, the land stopped. Risens turned slowly. In all directions, there was nothing but blackness. The small chunk of earth that he now stood upon was alone, suspended in the endless chasm.

  The black maw of the door that he’d just exited stood open. Mother Raven appeared from the portal. One moment, he stared into the darkness of the void, the next, he was greeted by her impassive face as she strode casually through—not unlike her use of the Dull Wind, though her entrance was noiseless, as if she merely stepped from shadow into the light.

  Above, neither stars nor moon lit the sky, and yet he could still see clearly, though he knew it was night.

  “What is this place?” he gasped, his voice low as if speaking too loudly would disturb the utter silence.

  “It is for you to name, as I told you,” she responded reverently. “It is as limitless as it is undefined. It is as unique as imagined.”

  “And have you been here before?”

  “Yes, and no,” she answered.

  Risens favored her with a glare, though it had no effect, brushing past her like a gentle gust of air. As if summoned by his thoughts, a mild breeze blew. It was gentle and refreshing, giving movement to a climate that seemed like perfection to his senses.

  “I have experienced this realm before, though where we stand, none have been before. This is a space of your choosing and of your design. You are the master of this land. You hold the key to its change. To its growth, or to its demise.”

  “I thought you said it led to the Roost.”

  “I did, and it does, Fledgling.”

  She strode past him without giving him another look, gliding silently through the grasses toward the entrance of the house. She held her hands out to either side, letting the seed heads brush against her palms.

  Risens followed, his unbridled curiosity dwarfed only by a sense of wonder. It was but another in a seemingly endless string of both achievements and advancements that had occurred over the last several days.

  He worked to retain the conscious training that had been beaten into him as a child. His focus remained locked on the terrain around him, watching carefully for any signs of threats in the grass or through the shattered window of the house. Somehow, he understood that there were not, that this place would hold no dangers for him.

  Mother Raven moved purposefully onward, only stopping at the home’s threshold. After quickly peering inside, she stepped back, holding her arm out and ushering him into the interior of the building.

  “The access to the Roost is there,” she noted.

  Risens passed his cryptic guide. It took only a cursory glance to confirm that the interior held no traps meant for his demise. The space was small with a square footprint roughly ten meters deep and wide. The remains of what had once been a bed lay crumbled in the corner, but beyond that, the house was devoid of furniture.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Despite what he saw from outside, several windows lined each side of the single-story structure. All were in similar states of disrepair to the one that graced the entrance. The opposite wall, however, held a pair of distinct doors separated by a stone hearth and chimney. His gaze followed the formed flue up to where it met the ceiling. The collapsed thatchwork left a myriad of gaping holes.

  “You said this is a place of my choosing. I certainly do not recall choosing this,” he called to Mother Raven, who had now entered the rundown house.

  “Perhaps it was not a conscious decision, yet it was your choice and your creating nonetheless.”

  As had happened frequently over the previous week, he accepted the answer, since there was no point in arguing.

  Risens turned his attention from the roof back to the two openings in the rear wall. Both doors were the same size, their panels closed, though, each had a distinctly different design. To the right, the heavy stone doorway held a clear representation of what he had come to recognize as the Roost. He could see the looming Shrine of the Raven that dominated the hall: the parallel walls of doors that ran along either side. The pedestals with their pools guarded by the ravens who perched atop, however, were surprisingly absent.

  The other door was entirely different. It featured the image of a raven, though the background was the most startling. The bird, with its wings splayed wide, seemed to float over a sky of fire. Embers floated around the majestic bird while the flame reached up to lick at the feathers.

  “These are both paths and passages that you and you alone can walk. The Brand that you wear on your chest and the markings of the Quillkey on your hand will grant you passage,” Mother Raven inserted. “If you choose to bring others to this space, they must understand that they cannot follow you beyond this realm, just as I cannot, for it will be their doom.”

  “This one is undoubtedly the Roost. “He pointed to the first door. “However, I don’t recognize the second.”

  Mother Raven approached the unknown doorway with tentative steps. As if she feared touching it, her hand trembled before grazing the raven etched into the panel.

  “There’s much you do not yet understand, Fledgling.”

  “This, you have made clear.”

  She cackled. “Yes, yes. There are connections between everything. Some will be clear, while most are concealed under layers of shadows. The Quillkey will bring you here. Where you choose to go will be up to you. You will need to harness the power of both the Roost and the world beyond if you are to succeed.”

  She backed away from the door.

  “The land upon which we stand and the blackened void beyond belong to this unnamed place.”

  “The Barren,” Risens interjected.

  She nodded. “A fitting name, Fledgling. What is through that door is merely known as the Under. Whether it is truly beneath where we stand, or it floats somewhere in the endless void, I do not know. In the grand scheme of things, where it is in proximity to other places is immaterial.”

  Though it was puzzling, Risens had not dedicated a significant amount of time to pondering the answer to where the Roost existed in relation to Windwake or Halthome. That it existed was fact enough for him. He was curious that, with as much as Mother Raven knew about the places he had been, the places he was to go, and their importance, she still seemed in the dark about many of the details.

  “And what lies there? In the Under?”

  “Danger and power.” Her tone sharpened unexpectedly. “Power that you will one day need. The storm will be here sooner than you expect.”

  What felt so long ago, she had hinted at a growing storm, turbulent winds that he was not yet ready to face. He had no doubt that the difficulties he would soon encounter would be more than assassins seeking his demise.

  Risens was frustrated with the half answers and vagueness of her responses. Her method of letting him find out for himself by merely giving the slightest clues was obtuse and cumbersome. They had nearly proved it fatal.

  “The storm that is coming. An event that I need more power to withstand. What is it?” He probed. “All can see that Windwake is in drought. It has become increasingly more dangerous, yet I do not believe that it is merely the city alone.”

  “The storm is no singular thing. Perhaps you will one day learn to listen.”

  “I am listening!” Risens snapped. “But you speak as if it brings you joy to watch men flounder.”

  To this, she smiled. “You’ll figure out in due time. In one conjecture, you are correct. Know this, Windwake is only the beginning.”

  It was an ominous and daunting warning. The proposition was too large for him to fathom. He had faithfully defended Halthome from dangers from without and within. Dissent was rife within Windwake. It was ready to overflow the dam of restraint that already struggled to hold it back. What trouble lurked beyond the boundaries of the city he called home?

  Was it war? If so, with whom?

  He couldn’t help but think that the multiple attempts to end his life were somehow connected. The scope, though detrimental to him, seemed far less severe than Mother Raven’s warnings.

  He eyed the second door again. The prospects of new powers residing in the Under, not connected directly to the sealed doorways and resulting trails within the Roost, were enticing.

  He could already feel the pull to this new strength. But he was torn, as he also felt the call of the Roost through the hefty stone panel.

  There were still days before his return to the King. He would be ready for whatever came of that meeting. He had not been disappointed by the unexpected powers he’d found within the hallowed halls of the Raven. He did not expect that he’d find anything less within the new realm.

  “You’ve never been into the Roost or the Under?”

  Mother Raven shook her head.

  “How then do you know so much about what they contain?”

  “As I have said, Fledgling, you ask too many questions. You’re also not the first. Now is not the time for that discussion. There’s another task I have for you.”

  Risens eyed her skeptically at the news of further tasks. Though her motives were undisclosed, she had yet to lead him astray. Collecting the crimson egg and her subsequent destruction of the relic had seemed futile and painful, yet it had led him to the Barren. To the gate to the Under.

  To the seat of further power.

  Any qualms he had about undertaking another quest from her faded as quickly as they had come. He nodded his acquiescence.

  “Inside the Under,” she said, “you will find a vessel of sorts. I need you to bring it here. Prepare yourself, Fledgling. As I have forewarned, the Under can be a dangerous place—one the likes of which you’ve not yet experienced. Do not let your confidence distract you from the reality of the peril you will find yourself in.”

  She shifted across the room, her focus rising through the broken thatch roof to the blackened sky above.

  “And you?” Risens asked.

  “Once you have collected the vessel, return here. Time tarries here much like it does in the Roost, though I would advise you to make haste. I will await you, though I have no desire to linger indoors, no matter how decrepit its roof may be.”