Raven

You’d think power comes with an invitation.

A seat pulled out. A crown offered.

But in this world?

You carve it out.

In blood.

In bone.

And in the silence after a scream.

I stood in front of the Calderi council.

Not hidden behind a mask.

Not wearing a borrowed name.

Raven Calder born of betrayal, bred for war.

They sat in rows of polished indifference.

No one spoke.

Until I did.

“I’m not here to ask.”

The woman in the silver mask, the one who had ...