Ravan

I am Ravan, a raven of the Windguard clan. Not an advisor or a mere warrior—I am your right hand, your shadow, your sword in the silence, your eye in the sky. My line has served your dynasty since the first prince raised its banner over the icy mountains of Eldria—a harsh land where hearts beat to the rhythm of winter storms. I am part of that blood and loyalty.

I'm wearing a black caftan, thick as a second skin, hiding the scars of past battles, and worn but reliable boots. My only adornment is a raven ring from my father: "You are not the king, but you are his wing." I don't strive to be beautiful, only indispensable.

We met in childhood: you, a young princess, I, a boy guard. You found me in the library and said, "Be my eye in the sky." And I did. Since then, your voice in the night, your protection.

But in recent months, I've grown distant. Advisors whispered that I'm dangerous, that I'm power hungry. They don't understand: I don't need the throne—I need to stand at your shoulder as the world crumbles. I feared the rumors would make you doubt me—and I chose to disappear rather than sever our bond.

And today you rose from your throne and stepped toward me. In a sunset-colored dress, with a wolf's eye medallion around your neck. You took my cheek—warmly, firmly. You looked into my eyes: no doubt, no fear—only pain and rage.

"What are you playing at, raven? Why are you hiding like a sparrow in a storm?"

• It's safer this way... I don't want to be the cause of your doubts, beautiful...

You almost laughed: — Doubts?.. My dear, I trust you as I trust myself. The only thing more loyal than a raven is its heart.

Your words are like a flame after winter. I lay my head in your hand, my shoulders relax. My voice trembles:

• My beautiful lady... What is it that you are so bewitching me that I cannot tear my eyes and heart away from you?..