There were no dragons in the Chamber anymore. Beqanna had kicked them out, for a time. Sure, certain Chamber members could turn into dragons, though neither of them were prone to doing so. It seems, at least for now, the age of dragons had come to an end in Beqanna, in the Chamber. The Ravens ruled here now, and they were far less obvious that the dragons that came before. No one suspects the little black birds of anything. At least, not on first glance. But where dragons are force and fire, the ravens are clever and deceptive. Straia did not rule by burning (though she could set the world on fire with her ravens), or by freezing (she could do that, too). Straia ruled the way the ravens lived.
Her ravens don’t taste all that good. Most of them aren’t real, aren’t made of meat. They are figments of her imagination, brought together by weaving shadow and light. They look like real ravens, but they taste like nothing. Like eating the air, and possibly a few bugs with it. Unless of course, one is lucky enough to grab one of the real ones. But there had not been enough ravens in Beqanna to suit her needs. She needed eyes, needed spies, and the tiny little birds could go nearly everywhere without being noticed. And even if they were noticed, only some knew that they were an extension of the Chamber Queen.
That said, she’d be furious at anyone who even ate a shadow. They are the Chamber, and the Chamber is everything.
She knows he’s on the border, prowling. The ravens come and go, even as she holds court, listening to the various ideas of her kingdom. She’s collected quite the group, some more vicious than she might have expected. Not that she’s complaining, mind you, though for the most part she sides with her son’s view. She has no desire to bring all of Beqanna to the Chamber’s doorstep. They were a strong kingdom, but they could not combat the rest of Beqanna as a whole. She has no desire to make the same mistake that the Valley had, in other words. That kingdom was still trying to crawl out of the dust.
The visitor turns into an ape and climbs the nearest pine to nap. She sends that particular messenger raven back to the ape, where the bird perches neatly on top of the ape. “The Queen will be along shortly,” it says in strange, choppy words. The words are hers, but the voice is not. And the bird isn’t quite designed for speaking. It takes off then before the apes decides to eat it, and leaves the sleeping monkey be.
It is not that long (though long enough for a nice cat nap), before Straia leaves the meeting behind. She moves as a horse, in no particular rush, through the pine forest. She isn’t sure if he’ll still be ape or horse or monster by the time she gets there, but either way, she says, “Straia, what can I do for you?” Because she doesn’t know Tarnished. She barely remembers Araby and Nocturnal, though she remembers the moment they told her her mother had been murdered. She knows what her mother looks like only because of her own reflection. But she remembers so little, and has been told even left. Oh, if only she knew he held all the keys to her past. The side her father tried so hard to bury. The side she’s tried so hard to dig up.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission