Page 1 of House of the Raven
1
VALERIA
“The Realta Observatory, a marvel to my old eyes, rose in days under the weaving of hands and the melodic hum of espiritu. I watched its creation—a sight that, before the veil, would have been deemed a miracle. I often wonder how Castella would be without magic.”
Diego Fontana - Erudito de la Academia Alada - 1327 DV
Espiritu, the power to use magic, is almost dead in the realm. Many things in Castella are a constant reminder of how life used to be a mere two decades ago. The collapsed glass walls of the old observatory are one example.
Enormous shards of glass rise from the ground like icebergs. They refract the early afternoon sun, shooting rainbows onto the arid surrounding ground, while smaller shards sparkle in the dirt, fooling the eye with the suggestion of lost treasure. I feel like an insect in the presence of towering gemstones.
I’ve seen paintings of the structure as it stood back then, a magnificent building with a large cupola, a clever design held up by spells, the espiritu of long-gone fae immigrants, though they would simply call it magic. Humans never had enough espiritu for such grandeur, but at least weused to have some. After the veil disappeared, however, it all went away. Now only a few of the stranded fae possess the gift.
I stroll through the destruction, but the echoes of its past beauty don’t escape me. Not for the first time, I wish I had seen the city before the veil disappeared and took all espiritu with it. Well, not all. Not yet.
“Val, home,” Cuervo croaks from the top of the large shard where he’s been perched.
Jago, my first cousin on my father’s side, sits below Cuervo, making a show of looking exhausted. “You should listen to the chicken.”
“Not chicken!” Cuervo croaks. The insult never fails to make him mad, just the reason Jago doesn’t relent in its use.
They are both right. I shouldn’t be here, but I’m tired of being locked up behind the palace’s walls. This is the first time I’ve snuck out in weeks. Besides, Father and Amira, my oldest sister, think I’m attending my Tirgaelach lesson while my maestro thinks I’m down with a stomach ache.
I shake my head. Tirgaelach… what is the point? Even the fae still living in Castella don’t speak the ancient language. Just like we don’t speak Castellan. Over the two thousand years our cultures have been in contact, our languages evolved into what we speak now: Tiran.
Cuervo flaps his wings and flies down.
“Treasure,” he croaks as he digs a hole in the ground with his sharp talon.
Cuervo’s feathers are beautiful. They look like polished onyx, glimmer blue and black and purple, and oddly enough, even white when the light hits them just so. His beak is curved and sharp. Shiny too. He has perfectly round eyes that watch everything. He belongs to a rare breed of ravens that came from Tirnanog, the fae realm.
“What did you find?” Pushing away the rapier strapped to my waist, I kneel next to him as he uncovers a multifaceted piece of glass in the shape of a teardrop. This is not a broken-off piece of the observatory. It’snot sharp. It is smooth, maybe a remnant of a chandelier or something similar.
I pick it up and hold it to the light between my thumb and forefinger. All the colors of the rainbow refract in the middle.
“Good job, Cuervo.”
“You shouldn’t indulge her, chicken.” Jago comes up behind us.
Cuervo tries to peck Jago’s foot, but my cousin moves out of the way, hands up. “Sorry. Sorry.”
Sometimes their bickering drives me crazy, but these two are my constant companions. My days would be unbearable without them.
I stretch to my full height and place the piece inside my satchel. I’m making a necklace for Amira’s birthday. I was missing the centerpiece, but I think I’ve found it.
Well, Cuervo found it.Clever bird!
I also found a pea-sized blue piece of glass that, once smoothed, can make a pretty ring for Nana. Blue is her favorite color.
Sighing, I decide it’s time to get back before anyone notices my absence. I throw the hood over my head. I don’t think many would recognize me, but better safe than sorry.
With Jago by my side and Cuervo flying overhead, I make my way out of the dilapidated site and into the streets of Castellina, the capital city. The broken observatory lies to the east of the palace, and it’s about a thirty-minute walk back. I keep my head low and my pace brisk.
“Mind if I take a detour from here?” Jago asks halfway to Nido, the palace.
I give him a narrow-eyed glare. “Where are you going?”
He shrugs.
