Raven Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Every night for a week, Raven Nightshade tried to enter the moonlit grove, and every night something threw her back. She wanted to be its keeper. The grove only appeared between dusk and dawn, a ring of pale trees glowing behind a wall of thorns. Raven had found it by accident and never stopped searching for the way in. Her long hair caught the leaves as she crept close. Then a cold force pressed her chest and shoved her onto the wet grass. She sat up and rubbed her shoulder. Something guarded the threshold. She could feel it watching, though she never saw its shape. Twice she had tried to run through fast. Twice the force had hurled her back harder. Her knees were bruised. Her patience was thin. Tonight she brought two things. From her pocket she drew a black coin etched with purple vines. She had found it buried at the grove's edge, and she believed it marked her as someone who belonged. In her other hand she held a ripe plum, dark and heavy, its skin catching the moonlight. "I don't want to fight you," she said to the empty air. "I want to stay." Something rustled in the thorns. A small satyr stepped out, black fur shining, one hoof lifted mid-step. Its amber eyes fixed on the plum in her hand. It looked wild, but it did not run. It tilted its head, waiting. Raven understood. The guardian had never wanted to hurt her. It wanted an offering. She knelt and held the plum out on her open palm. The satyr crept forward. It sniffed, then took the plum in its teeth and ate it in three quick bites. Juice ran dark down its chin. When it finished, it looked at her again, calmer now, and turned toward the thorns. Raven stood and lifted the coin high, letting the vine pattern show. "I carry this. I belong here." The satyr walked to the wall of thorns. The branches curled back on their own, opening a narrow path. It glanced over its shoulder, plainly asking her to follow. Raven stepped forward, bracing for the cold shove. It never came. She crossed the threshold. The grass under her feet felt warm. The pale trees glowed brighter, and the air smelled of ripe fruit and rain. She was inside at last. But the grove was not empty. Deeper in, the light bent around a shape that watched her from between the trees. The satyr stopped and lowered its head, the way an animal bows to something larger. Raven's chest tightened. She had wanted to be the grove's keeper. Now she understood the grove already had one, and it had let her walk in for a reason of its own.