Episode 126

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Published on:

29th May 2026

126. Raven Crown Chapters 46, 47 and 48

A murdered guardian. A stolen sapphire. A raven with opinions.

Brie must gather the Jewels of Tambor—learning courage, cunning, and a strength she never knew she possessed—all while braving a twisted foot, a lack of trust, and impossible odds. Meanwhile, Dogmar, known as Jackal, will do anything to claim the throne—until a stolen jewel begins to unravel everything she believes about strength and survival.

Transcript
ghia:

Chapter 46, Brie,

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just as a wave crashes on

the rocks below the castle.

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I lunge for the jewels scattered across

the terrace, but I'm crushed to the

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ground by the weight of the dragon's

foot on my back while the wave recedes.

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So do my hopes.

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This is it.

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I failed.

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I'm going to lose the Norwood and the

rest of Tambor as well with nothing

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but my tattered small clothes as cover.

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I cower on the terrace.

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Bravo Reagan Thorn says

with three loud claps.

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The Croker claps as well.

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Surveying the scattered

gems with a greedy smile.

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Reagan thorn waves to the dragon.

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Bring me the jewels after stomping on

my back as if to warn me not to move.

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The dragon stoops, to gather the stones.

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Once again, they've been snatched from

my fingertips, ripping away apart of

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my soul With a shutter, I squeeze my

eyes closed in the distance I hear

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a familiar sound rolling slightly.

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I glance up at the fading blue

sky grim circles overhead.

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The sight of him does

nothing to raise my spirits.

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Then I see him dive in seconds.

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There is a whoosh of air as grim wings

across the terrace in my direction.

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He flies with an open beak

directly towards the emerald

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Reagan thorn has left on the table.

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He snatches it at the same instant.

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Reagan thorn swings at the bird.

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I cry out in anguish as grim

is smashed into the castle wall

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and doesn't move in the process.

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The emerald flies from his beak

and rolls across the stone terrace

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to within inches of my face.

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I grab it, squeezing it hard in my fist.

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For a fleeting moment, I feel something

like complete and absolute trust Before

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I can do anything, the dragon has his

foot on my wrist, forcing my hand open.

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The emerald is plucked from my fingers.

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I draw a breath as it leaves me.

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Reagan thorn laughs.

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Fate has deemed it.

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He bellows I am to be

the great corvex Corona.

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I glance at him as he raises a

fist in the air, the croker smirks

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and rubs her hands together.

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You are to become a God, my Lord.

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But how?

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Tell me a Reagan thorn frowns for a

moment, and I suspect he isn't sure

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how much he wants to say, but he goes

on tonight during the blood moon, my

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daughter will be crammed Queen of Tambo

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With my poisons, she'll be

completely under my control.

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All of her power will be mine,

making me hold her of the Corona.

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I gape tonight.

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The blood moon is tonight, but

I didn't think the moon would

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even be full for another day.

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And the corvex, my Lord, the

Roker asks, sounding excited.

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How will you gain that?

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A Reagan thorn looks smug.

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I will time the ceremony

so it takes place.

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Just as the negative light of the

moon reaches its maximum potency

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strengthened by the mosaic of the

crystals inside the dome, the light

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will destroy the jewels of tambor.

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I struggle to understand

what he's talking about.

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The light inside the ulu increases

the power of any gem placed inside it.

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They aren't destroyed.

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Doesn't Reagan thorn understand

this as he continues speaking?

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I roll to a seated

position with the jewels.

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No longer a threat.

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The order will have to recognize

me as the most powerful man alive.

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Reagan thorn's.

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Words rise to a crescendo as he speaks.

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I will become the great corvex.

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Yes, of course.

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I think as I put things together,

the order despises the jewels.

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If Reagan thorn can destroy them, he will

be seen as all powerful, but he can't.

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That isn't what the am does.

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The Croker claps her

hands gleaming at Reagan.

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Thorn behold, our great spiritual leader,

she bows as if in reverence, Reagan,

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thorn stands tall, his head turned to

the side, his hand on his coat lapel,

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as if he is already basking in glory.

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I want to yell that it isn't true.

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Even if he could destroy the jewels,

the status of corvex Corona isn't

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gained until the afterlife.

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It says so in the LXi gloss, but I falter.

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Could the LXi gloss be wrong?

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Is there something I don't know.

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The dragon who has gathered the stones

places them in Reagan thorn's outstretched

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hand His eyes bulge with greed.

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One at a time, he drops them

into his velvet bag, counting

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in a sing-song voice as he does.

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1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

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His eyes get darker.

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Six.

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His jaw hardens and his nostrils flare.

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Seven.

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There is no eight.

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His anger is palpable as he slams

his hands down on the table.

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He looks at me with venom in his eyes.

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There's one missing with two steps.

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He's in front of me, the tip

of his sword at my cheek.

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Where is it?

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Before I can summon my voice,

there's a ruckus from behind me.

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Reagan Thorn.

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Looks up.

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Step aside.

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Now jackal commands

the dragon at the door.

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Reagan thorn lets his

blade fall from my cheek.

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I don't move.

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Let her through.

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He says She may as well be party

to this jackal storms onto the

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terrace, the fringe on her leather

pants flapping in the breeze.

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She glances from me to the

velvet bag on the table.

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Understanding shows on her face

she stalks towards her father.

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Now that you've got what

you want, let the girl go.

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A Reagan thorn's face hardens.

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There's one missing.

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She was just about to tell me

where it is, and if she tells you,

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what will you do with her then?

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Reagan.

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Thorn shrugs.

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Oh, what do you care?

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you'll kill her.

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Either way, won't you?

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Father jackal has her hands on her hips.

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Well, you can't, I forbid it with a whirl.

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She grabs the velvet bag from the table.

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I claim the jewels.

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She says, as the next queen of

tambor, they are rightfully mine.

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Her face is fierce as she

holds the bag in the air.

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Reagan thorn's upper lip quivers lightly.

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He brushes a strand of stringy hair from

his face and assumes a sad demeanor.

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I'm sorry, my pet.

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You are mine.

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So what is yours is mine as well.

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Without warning, Reagan thorn

lunges for the bag, but jackal steps

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easily out of the way and holds the

stones over the edge of the terrace.

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Ready to drop them into the sea.

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Jackal don't I?

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Squeal, panicked.

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They'll be lost forever.

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Jackal pays me no mind.

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I'll make you a trade.

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Father, are you an

imbecile Reagan, thorn.

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Bellows.

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How dare you bargain with me.

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I'll give you the jewels for her.

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And jackal nods towards me.

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I blink.

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Why would she care?

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She's the reason I'm here.

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This is all her fault.

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a Reagan thorn, sneers, and grateful brat.

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You would turn on your

father for a sniveling runt.

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Perhaps I'll kill her right now.

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And with a quick step.

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Reagan Thorn is standing over me, his

sword pointed at my chest, ready to slide

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through my ribs and pierce my heart.

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He looks at jackal.

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I look as well.

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There's a long pause.

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jackal.

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By the jewels.

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What?

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Now?

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My eyes jump around the

terrace as I try to think.

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It wasn't until I asked Gray Nona's

Tambor name that I figured it out.

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Nona was Nona Arradondo of the Glens Oak.

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Glens to be precise.

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That's why Noona gave her

rulings under an oak tree

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The two women were one in the same.

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The information confirmed what

I hadn't wanted to believe.

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the baby didn't die as I was

told as a small child, I couldn't

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be trusted with the truth.

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What if I told my father, well,

I've got to tell him now.

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Don't I?

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Telling the truth is the best

chance I have of keeping brie safe.

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I draw a breath and say the words, no,

father, you won't kill her because.

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Because she's my sister

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Brie.

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Her words cause me to choke.

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What kind of Wiley trick is this?

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Why would she make such a claim?

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You don't have a sister

Reagan thorn snaps.

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I would know the tip of

his sword pierces my skin.

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Sorry.

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You are wrong.

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Jackal says, as she plays with the

tassel on the end of the velvet

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bag, Brie, she gestures towards

me Is Fallon's baby my half-sister.

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What?

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That's impossible, as my mind

denies it, my heart knows it's true.

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lady Fallon didn't ask

the maid to take her baby.

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She asked N Kona.

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but if Fallon was my

mother, I gape at Reagan.

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Thorn.

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No, it couldn't be.

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Fallon's baby died with her.

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Reagan Thorn declares his face confident

as he looks down his sword arm at me.

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The Croker, who I forgot was

even there, speaks up then.

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But look, my Lord, she does

have Lady Fallon's countenance.

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I see some hesitation in Reagan thorn's

face as he studies me in the waning light,

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paying particular attention to my foot.

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The disgust is obvious, but after a

moment, he lowers his sword slowly.

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I scoot back until I'm leaning

against the castle wall.

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think, what it would mean.

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The roker goes on.

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Dogmar isn't your only option for

Queen, There is a resemblance,

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a definite resemblance.

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Reagan Thorn says, stroking

the hair on his chin.

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And I suppose her deformity could be

hidden with a suitably long skirt.

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I'm no daughter of yours.

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I'm murmur as I try to hide my foot.

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Reagan thorn leers at me.

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Prove it.

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He says With a snicker, even if it

isn't true, I could pass you off.

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You look enough like her.

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He appears to be gloating.

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Now I have two daughters with royal blood.

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The thought is so ridiculous.

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I almost laugh.

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I don't know the first thing

about how to rule a country.

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then I remember all of

Nona's governance lessons.

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Did she know this would happen?

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Was she trying to prepare me?

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father, jackal, snarls.

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Take the stones and let her go.

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No Reagan thorn answers

like a spoiled brat.

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Take the stones.

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Jackal, yells, hurling

the bag at Reagan Thorn.

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Before I know it, she has me by the arm

and is dragging me towards the door.

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guards, Reagan thorn yells.

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Something hard is slipped into my hand.

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Trust the whisper.

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Jackal.

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Hisses in my ear.

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Three dragons rushed towards us.

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Jackal pulls a knife,

but more dragons arrive.

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She can't hold all of them off for long.

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In the turmoil, I glance at what she

has thrust in my hand, a stone pendant.

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I stuff it in the top of my boot.

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And look back at jackal.

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A dragon has her by the throat.

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Her face is turning blue.

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Let her go.

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I shriek.

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Enough.

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Reagan Thorn says the dragon.

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Lets jackal slump to the ground

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I crawl towards her, but a

dragon grabs me around the

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waist and lifts me off my knees.

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Lock my pet in her room, Reagan

Thorn says, with a dismissive wave.

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Jackal is hauled from the terrace.

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Reagan thorn studies me once again,

and I'm painfully aware that I'm

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clad and only my small clothes.

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unexpectedly.

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There's a familiar squawk.

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My head spins grim is on his

feet, ruffling his feathers.

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He's alive.

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Hitting the wall.

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Only stunned him.

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I want to shout with relief, but

the dragon's grip on me is too tight.

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Grim hops to the terrace railing There.

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He cocks his head to look

at me and clacks his beak.

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no, I can't.

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I'm just a little bird.

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I managed to answer

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His response comes to my heart like the

soft touch of a feather, but I trust that

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you can without anything more, he flaps

off the terrace and into the sinking sun.

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I blink them, blink again.

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He trusts me.

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Grim the corvex, trust me.

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But ravens never trust anyone.

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And yet that's what I heard.

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Does that mean that the

Whisper trusts me as well?

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With an unexpected surge of strength?

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I twist and get the dragon's

forearm in my teeth.

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I bite down hard.

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He yells and knocks me away.

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I stumble, wrenching my foot,

but managed to keep my balance

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and glare at Reagan Thorn.

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The brush at my heart has told

me everything I need to know.

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I'm not brie, the twisted and abandoned.

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I'm not even Brie Reagan thorn's daughter.

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I'm Brie the healer of the Norwood

Brie who bested the Mabu at Naja.

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Brie who ran the cataracts.

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It's all clear.

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I'm Brie of the black raven.

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I say in a loud voice, Brie

who can hear the hesper.

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I take a step towards Reagan thorn

and my voice drops to a whisper.

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Your seed may have spawned me,

but I'll never be your daughter.

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As I utter the words I know they are true.

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It doesn't matter who my

father is or where I'm from.

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It matters who I am.

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What I do with that knowledge

and who I choose to trust.

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Reagan Thorn shows no emotion as

he reaches for the dagger in the

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bowl of apples and proceeds to

clean his fingernails with the tip.

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Take her away, he says,

without looking up, the dragon

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behind me grabs my shoulders.

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I try to shake him off,

but his grip is too tight.

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Where should I take her?

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My Lord.

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The dragon asks Reagan thorn,

ponders for a moment, then says,

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put her in the queen's room

and have her made presentable.

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Chapter 47, Brie with a

massive arm around my waist.

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The dragon drags me down a long

hallway and into a dark room, made he

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bellows as he releases me to the floor.

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A serving girl appears and lights

a giant candelabra along with

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a preset fire in the hearth.

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I don't move.

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When the girl is gone, the

dragon stalks out the door.

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There is a distinct click of the lock.

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Slowly I take in my surroundings

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A bed draped in sheer curtains

sits in the middle of the room.

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tassel cushions are piled on

the richly carpeted floor.

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A fireplace rimmed in

gemstones is on one wall.

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On the other is an enormous

wardrobe with a mere door.

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I walk towards it

shocked at my appearance.

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I'm thin and pale.

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My hair sticks out in all directions.

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Mart's coal has run in

streaks down my face.

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Both knees are scuffed

above my green boots.

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My boots remind me the pendant

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I drop to the floor.

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As I pull it out.

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Could it be the s sardon Xs, the

last of the eight jewels of Tambor?

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The stone is opaque, not translucent,

making it quite different from the others.

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Red, white, and green stripes

run through it, just as Nona

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described it in her parchment.

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As I study the pendant, I

begin to wonder if this is just

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another of jackal's tricks.

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She might be trying to win my trust again.

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Well, there's one sure way to know.

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Holding out the stone,

I drop it to the rug.

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It's there.

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The ripping at my soul.

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When the stone leaves my hand, I snatch

it back up, and the pain is gone.

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That can only mean one thing.

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I'm in possession of a

genuine jewel of tambor.

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Closing my eyes.

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I try to relax and feel its essence.

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A yearning.

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To be honest and truthful floods my heart

as if my character is being strengthened.

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It kindles memories of noona, my myna.

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What lesson was she trying to teach

me when she told me her story?

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That sometimes you have to

leave your home, that you have

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to stand for what you believe.

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That an old woman or even a young

girl can be trusted to do the

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impossible if only she will act.

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I open my eyes and ponder the stone.

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Nona had a choice.

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She could watch her people suffer

at the hands of the invaders or go

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with the queen and try to save them.

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she chose to leave her oak.

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She taught the people about

the whisper and they triumphed.

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Soft spoken as the whisper is.

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The order has driven it

from most people's minds,

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But I'm sure there are still a

few people who can feel it and

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more would if they had a chance.

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Is this the reason Nona pushed me so hard?

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Did she want me to wear the crown?

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Teach the people to hear the whisper?

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Could I do it?

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Could I be queen?

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The idea seems preposterous, yet

I wouldn't put it past Nona to

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believe such a thing possible.

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I look at the stone in my hand

and think of jackal again.

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I don't know what game she's playing,

but it doesn't really matter.

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I have a job to do.

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Stop the coronation.

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I stuff the sardi next back in the

top of my boot and look around.

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I won't be able to do anything if I don't

get out of this room going to the window.

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I pull back the curtain and see that the

full moon is just rising in the East.

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I try the latch, it doesn't budge.

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I go to the next window

with the same results.

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I'm working on the third when horns Blair,

the doors of the ram watt of ion will be

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opening and Nobilis will be filing in.

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I glance at the moon again, there isn't

any sign that the blood moon is starting.

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That's good because if I understood

the Pedallers book correctly,

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once it starts, I'll only have

two hours before it's complete.

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For now, at least, I still have time.

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I'm trying the last window.

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When I hear a key in the door

behind me, I turn just as a crew

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of serving girls enter with buckets

of water with swift efficiency.

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They pour the water into a

copper tub in the corner.

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A basket of bathing supplies is left on a

cushion without a word or a glance at me.

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They leave and I hear the door lock again.

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I stare with longing

at the steaming water.

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but I couldn't possibly take a bath.

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Not now.

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There isn't time.

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Then I come to my senses and begin

ripping at the laces of my boot.

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Yes, yes, I need to get going, but

I haven't bathed in over a month.

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Surely I can take a few minutes When my

boots and small clothes are off, I slide

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gingerly into the rose scented water.

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The tub is big enough for me to completely

submerge a luxury I've never experienced.

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I allow myself a moment to relax

before vigorously scrubbing at

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my body and washing my hair.

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The warm water does wonders for

my foot, and I carefully flex it

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back and forth and side to side.

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There was still a red welt on my

ankle where I caught it in the

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clothes line, but it could be worse.

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Even still, I worry

about what's before me.

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Somehow.

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I've got to get out of this

room and into the coronation.

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Will my foot hold out?

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If I damage it?

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If I push it too far, what then?

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I might never walk again, but

I've come such a long way.

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Surely I can make it a little further.

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when I slip out of the water,

there's a ring of grime left in

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the tub, wrapping in a towel.

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I step to the ward.

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I'm relieved to find it

stuffed with dresses, at least

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I'll have something to wear.

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I rifle through the selection, looking

for something simple, but everything is

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covered with jewels or lined with fur.

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I've just decided on a black dress when

my eye is caught by the shimmer of silver.

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Threads running through blue fabric.

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Just like grim.

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Attracted to a flash or sparkle.

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I snatched the dress from

the wardrobe Despite it being

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much too lavish, I slip it on.

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:

It bags at the waist and drags on

the floor, but that can be remedied.

419

:

I'm sad to ruin the dress, but with a

tiny pair of nail scissors left in the

420

:

wash basket, I snip the fabric, then tear

the bottom of the dress is in tatters

421

:

around my ankles when I'm done, But at

least I won't trip over it from a chest.

422

:

I pull out a brown leather belt

with diamonds on the buckle

423

:

and fix it around my waist.

424

:

Next I find a pair of

peacock blue stockings.

425

:

They sag at the knees, but

they are soft and clean.

426

:

When I look in the mirror, I'm

shocked at the transformation.

427

:

The speckled finch is now

a radiant blue thrush.

428

:

But I'm not really a thrush am I?

429

:

I cock my head as I acknowledge

my latest Raven trick.

430

:

Who would suspect I'm actually a

corvex bent on stopping the coronation?

431

:

This returns me to my question,

could I be the next queen of tambor?

432

:

I blink as I think this over and then

shaking my head, I turn from the mirror.

433

:

Don't be ridiculous.

434

:

You are not queenly material.

435

:

despite my certainty, there's

an itching at the back of my

436

:

mind that it's what Nona wanted.

437

:

I lace up my boots and tuck in

the S Sardon Xs before I remember.

438

:

I'm still a prisoner.

439

:

I can't do anything until

I get out of this room.

440

:

I check each window again, shaking

them and fiddling with the latches.

441

:

They don't budge.

442

:

I go to the door and rattle it as well.

443

:

Nothing.

444

:

I purse my lips.

445

:

Nona would find a way out.

446

:

You'll fit the words come

like a soft brush to my heart.

447

:

I turn about in confusion

until I'm facing the fireplace

448

:

There I stopped to consider.

449

:

I suppose it would be possible if not for

the smoke, maybe I can put the flames out.

450

:

I look at the tub.

451

:

I've got plenty of water, but what to

carry it with in an instant, I've got it.

452

:

I soak my bath towel in the tub

and drag it across the floor There.

453

:

I ring the water out over the fire.

454

:

I use the same technique three

more times to my frustration.

455

:

When the flames are doused, the wood

continues to smolder owl pellets.

456

:

What now?

457

:

Then it dawns on me.

458

:

I just need the smoke out of the chimney.

459

:

I don't care if it fills the room.

460

:

Using a poker from the rack beside

the hearth, I scrape the smoldering

461

:

wood onto the stone floor.

462

:

Long, tendrils of smoke

drift up to the high ceiling.

463

:

There they begin to gather

in poisonous swirls.

464

:

I start to worry as soon as I've done it.

465

:

If I can't get out through the

chimney, I won't be able to retreat.

466

:

the room, will be full of smoke.

467

:

guess I just can't come back.

468

:

I say with determination, I

pull the back hem of my dress up

469

:

between my legs and tuck it in the

belt, freeing my legs to climb.

470

:

The stones in the hearth are hot,

so I kneel on the wet towel with

471

:

a deep breath to calm my nerves.

472

:

I stand up my head engulfed

in the darkness of the flu.

473

:

I don't want to do this.

474

:

I really don't, but I can't back

out now with tentative fingers.

475

:

I reached for a handhold.

476

:

The fire hadn't been burning long, so

while the stone is hot, thankfully

477

:

it doesn't scorch my fingertips.

478

:

The problem I discover is

that the inside of the chimney

479

:

is almost completely smooth.

480

:

I twist and turn stretching and

groping, but there isn't a notch

481

:

or crack to grip in the end.

482

:

all I can do is wedge myself

arms and legs on one side, back

483

:

on the other into the opening.

484

:

If I don't keep constant

pressure between my back and my

485

:

extremities, I slip As I look up

ash sprinkles into my eyes and nose.

486

:

Finally, I quit looking up.

487

:

It's too dark to see.

488

:

Anyway, besides I have a bigger

worry, Namely, what will I

489

:

do when I get to the roof?

490

:

Chapter 48, Bri, I make the

mistake of licking my lips as I

491

:

climb and get a mouthful of grit.

492

:

I spit and try to wipe

my face on my sleeve.

493

:

That's a mistake.

494

:

As my dress is completely covered

in thick black soot, perhaps

495

:

my raven essence is emerging.

496

:

I snort at the thought only to

grunt in the subsequent breath.

497

:

As I struggle to inch my way up, it

seems the higher I go, the tighter

498

:

the chimney gets on the next move.

499

:

My hand finds open air.

500

:

I slip and panic.

501

:

After a moment, I figure out

that the breach in the wall is

502

:

another chimney joining mine.

503

:

This could be good.

504

:

Maybe I can climb out somewhere

besides the roof, But where will I be?

505

:

I sniff the hole, but

there isn't any smoke.

506

:

I vacillate like a mug, lump up

or down roof or unknown room.

507

:

Finally, I drop feet first

into the new chimney.

508

:

I'm not sure what I'll find, but

surely it can't be worse than

509

:

ending up on the castle's crest

510

:

After some time, there's a hint of

light on a stone hearth beneath me.

511

:

I stop and listen nothing carefully.

512

:

I drop into the room.

513

:

The only light comes from a wrought iron

candelabra that stands in the corner.

514

:

Most of the candles have burned out,

leaving only a flicker of illumination.

515

:

There is a door on the

far side of the room.

516

:

I head towards it on my way.

517

:

I can't help but notice all the books.

518

:

Nona would be in heaven.

519

:

There's also a bewildering array

of herbs and powders stored

520

:

in bowls and stopper flasks.

521

:

Uncut jewels and crystals are

scattered among the piles of papers.

522

:

A copper pot rests on a small

brazier yellow smoke wafts

523

:

from it towards the ceiling.

524

:

The smell is sharp and stings my nose.

525

:

I'm reaching for the doorknob

when I hear footsteps.

526

:

For the love of rats, someone is coming.

527

:

I dive for a space between a large

wooden chest and the wall and

528

:

squirm down just as the door opens.

529

:

Please don't see me.

530

:

Please.

531

:

I squeeze my eyes shut

as if that will help.

532

:

at least three people enter the room.

533

:

It's my destiny of voice booms,

but the timing must be precise.

534

:

My heart skidders.

535

:

It's Reagan thorn.

536

:

This is bad.

537

:

Really bad.

538

:

Why didn't I go for the roof?

539

:

Yes, my Lord.

540

:

Someone answers.

541

:

I understand, but there's no accurate way

to predict the exact timing of the event.

542

:

As I listen, the room flickers with light.

543

:

As more candles are lit, I feel as if

I've heard the second voice before.

544

:

Then it comes to me and I almost gag.

545

:

It's the mabu that drank the girl's blood.

546

:

That isn't enough.

547

:

Reagan Thorn shouts.

548

:

If we had the book, don't mention

that book Reagan Thorn cuts

549

:

in, you know, perfectly well.

550

:

There was nothing I could

do when it went missing.

551

:

if the order heard I was searching for it,

that would've been the end of everything.

552

:

All I was going to say is that I have

no way of predicting the exact time

553

:

of the blood moon without the charts.

554

:

The mabu says, You'll just have

to stall Reagan thorn snaps.

555

:

But the nobilis will get impatient.

556

:

Yes, I know.

557

:

Reagan Thorn says There is a moment

of silence before a female speaks.

558

:

Shall I get the girl ready?

559

:

I recognize the voice of the

Roker Reagan thorn grunts,

560

:

then calls out guard the door.

561

:

Opens at your service.

562

:

My Lord.

563

:

A low voice rumbles, Bring

dog Mar right away my Lord.

564

:

The door closes.

565

:

mix, the ink strong.

566

:

I don't want any trouble

tonight as you wish.

567

:

The Croker says Shortly I hear

the sound of jars opening and the

568

:

grinding of mortar and pestle.

569

:

We need to discuss the ceremony.

570

:

The Mabu says, what do you have in mind?

571

:

You will give the jewels history

and perform a cleansing ritual.

572

:

Reagan thorn answers.

573

:

I don't care what else you do, as long

as the crown isn't placed on dog Mar's

574

:

head until the blood moon is complete.

575

:

I'm very well.

576

:

The mabu replies.

577

:

There's a knock Enter Reagan thorn calls.

578

:

heavy boots, clump in and

stop just inside the door.

579

:

My Lord, I have bad news.

580

:

There's a slight hesitation.

581

:

The girl in the queen's room is missing.

582

:

Well find her.

583

:

Reagan thorn roars.

584

:

She couldn't have gone far.

585

:

We'll have her soon.

586

:

You had better Reagan thorn's.

587

:

Voice is low and menacing and

I find it hard to breathe.

588

:

Jackal, I'm furious as

I enter the library.

589

:

If it weren't for the dragons at

my side, I wouldn't be here at

590

:

all, but my throat is bruised.

591

:

From the last time I tried to

resist my father, so I will comply.

592

:

For now.

593

:

The news that Brie is missing cheers

me somewhat, though I'm not sure she

594

:

has much of a chance of escaping.

595

:

I catch the distinct smell of blood and

look up to see the presiding mabu with

596

:

his serpent inked head, and purple robe.

597

:

Thankfully, he brushes past

me and out of the library.

598

:

then I see the Roker and

know why I've been summoned.

599

:

I spin in an attempt to get out the

door, but the dragon anticipates

600

:

my move and grabs me by the arms.

601

:

Let me go.

602

:

I yell.

603

:

Kicking at the dragon.

604

:

My father nods.

605

:

So the dragons loosen their

grip and I wrench my arms away.

606

:

No ink.

607

:

I snarl.

608

:

Especially not from her.

609

:

I don't know why the old Kroger was

sent away, but I won't have anyone new.

610

:

My father furrows his brows.

611

:

Why make things difficult?

612

:

Panic rises in the pit of my stomach.

613

:

I search the room looking

for a means of escape.

614

:

My eyes fall on the bag of jewels,

carelessly left on a table.

615

:

I tried to look nonchalant as I

slide up with my back to them.

616

:

I won't be drugged like my mother.

617

:

I say, hoping the words

will distract my father.

618

:

It works.

619

:

He turns away flaring

his nostrils Casually.

620

:

I grab the bag but my actions aren't

smooth enough because my father's rapier

621

:

is instantly at my throat, put the jewels

down and get on the Kroger's table.

622

:

I drop the bag, but don't move on

the table Now my father hisses.

623

:

what?

624

:

Are you going to slip my throat then?

625

:

Who will you put on the throne?

626

:

You've already lost my sister.

627

:

I don't know why I'm goading him.

628

:

Habit, I guess my father's rapier.

629

:

Flashes in front of my face and

I feel a sting on my cheek Before

630

:

the sword is back at my neck.

631

:

Without moving his blade, my father

reaches around me and grabs the bag.

632

:

I'll be putting these somewhere

safe, he says with a sneer.

633

:

Louder.

634

:

He adds.

635

:

Take her.

636

:

Knowing exactly what my father wants.

637

:

The dragon step forward and

force me to the croker's table.

638

:

I twist my head and see my father

drop the bag into a trunk by the door,

639

:

closing it with the click of a lock.

640

:

I struggle to no avail.

641

:

Soon I'm flat on the table,

and after that, I feel the

642

:

prick of a croker's needle.

643

:

It only takes a moment for

the effect to hit me shortly.

644

:

The dragons let go.

645

:

I watch as vine tendrils creep over me.

646

:

Soon my body is draped in leaves.

647

:

I'm aware that only I can see them, but

they weigh me down and block my vision.

648

:

I try to push them away, but if I move

or even think too much, the vines grow

649

:

thicker, return her to her room and

have her dressed for the coronation.

650

:

My father says, one of the dragons pulls

me off the table when I can't stand.

651

:

He grabs me by the back of my shirt

and drags me across the floor.

652

:

As I slide through the doorway, I notice

a dark face that looks almost like Bree.

653

:

Strange, what the drugs can do.

654

:

Brie Jackal's eyes look glazed as she

slides past me and I half expect her to

655

:

expose my hiding place, but she doesn't.

656

:

Soon the room dims, and I know most

of the candles have been snuffed.

657

:

I see Reagan thorn's, boots pass by,

followed by the croker's black robe.

658

:

The door closes I huddle in silence until

I'm sure they're gone without a sound.

659

:

I climb from behind the trunk.

660

:

All my senses are commanding me

to dash for the chimney, but I

661

:

can't, not until I have the jewels.

662

:

I try to open the trunk, but it's locked.

663

:

I look about searching the room

for something I can use to pry

664

:

it open On the table, I find a

small dagger and slip the blade.

665

:

Between the clasp and the padlock,

I'm pounding on the blade's hilt.

666

:

Just as the door opens,

there's no time to hide.

667

:

All I can do is crouch where I

am and hope the semi-darkness

668

:

conceals me The hulking silhouette

of a dragon stands in the doorway.

669

:

As he steps into the room, I think my

heart may explode with excessive pounding.

670

:

My only chance of escape

is to dash for the chimney.

671

:

I bolt knocking over a pile of

books and sending a flask of liquid

672

:

crashing to the floor, but the dragon

is fast before I can haw myself up.

673

:

He has me by the leg

674

:

and is yanking me down.

Show artwork for Creative Spiritual Journey

About the Podcast

Creative Spiritual Journey
one small, deliberate step at a time
We are all on a journey—a journey home to our heavenly parents. Any experienced traveler knows there are days you laugh and days you cry.

We aren’t here to tell you how to live—we are here to share how we live—how we survive, thrive, and even find joy!

The journey gets messy with rainstorms and sleepless flights but the hard times—the miserable times—those make the best stories.

And the vistas, the sunsets, the little birds outside the window—those are the reminders that God is in the details, he is aware of us, he has trod the path before.

The Creative Spiritual Journey Podcast is hosted by Judy and Ghia Cooley—two sisters in their wisdom years—who love the savior and are dedicated to making this journey one small, deliberate step at a time.

Join us!

About your host

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Ghia Cooley