i am the violence in the pouring rain
i am a hurricaneShe knows they are here – Lagertha, Vanquish, Mast. She’d heard them leave the Gates, knew that the ravens had not yet seen any of them return home. They might miss Lagertha returning back to the Jungle, but there were no magical protections on the Gates. At the very least, they would have known if Mast had returned.
She doesn’t need all of them anyway. She only needs one or two key witness. It will be enough.
Her cousin is there, standing at the entrance in the sand wall, looking resigned and tired. “It will be over soon, cousin,” Straia says softly, feeling almost bad for taking advantage of Rhy’s weaknesses. But it was for the better, in the end. The sooner this all began, the sooner it ended. And in truth, Straia was ready for it to end. But she would not simply roll over and give up. No, she’s finish what she started the only way she could.
If only the Gates hadn’t talked so much of revenge. If only the other kingdoms hadn’t made all this so terribly easy. Perhaps then, peace could have stayed in Beqanna. Perhaps then, the fear instilled by the Chamber’s name would have been enough to sate the bloodthirsty kingdom. But everyone else was bloodthirsty too. They just didn’t have the guts to admit it. They had to pretend they were fighting on the right side. So be it. Straia didn’t care what they thought of her.
She cared that the Chamber had half of Beqanna up in arms. They had given her exactly what she wanted.
She turns to Wichita and Rhy, nodding toward the Deserts, though she goes no farther than the border. “Find Lagertha, Mast and Vanquish, or whoever of that group you can. And then wait.” Two black ravens appear on each captive’s back, talons finding purchase in their soft flesh. Straia cannot go any farther, she knows, but she’ll make it clear just who’s pulling the strings.
She watches through the raven’s eyes, and when her captives have found the horses they seek, she speaks through their mouths. “Keep plotting, please,” say the voice, the sarcasm dripping obviously from the words. The words are slightly distorted through the raven’s mouths, but it’s enough. “In the meantime, I will keep picking away at your homes and your loved ones.”
She reaches first for Wichita’s heart, gripping it firmly in her mind, crushing it quickly. It is almost a kindness. She could have made it slow and painful, could have dragged out the girl’s death, squeezing the life from her bit by bit. But the Gates mare hardly deserved that cruel of an ending. Well, to be fair, she didn’t deserve to die at all. But needs must and all that.
Straia reaches for Rhy’s heart next, grabbing it lightly with her mind, slowing it down. “How many will it take?” She squeezes slightly harder, though still not enough to kill. She’ll only kill if she really has to, but she’s pretty sure one will be enough. The bleeding hearts in the Deserts won’t let her kill a second. “I do have your Princess captive too, Mast.”
At this point, she’s turned back into a raven at the border of the Deserts, ready to either kill Rhy in a swift motion if she has to, or take off back to the Chamber before they can touch her.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
@[Wichita], and you know, basically everyone else who wants to come