BONUS CONTENT: The Raven Queen's Lament
Daughter of Ravens
The Raven Queen's Lament
A traditional Ravencrest ballad, banned by imperial decree
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FIRST MOVEMENT: THE SHADOW-PACT
In days when stone-mothers still shaped their children from mountain-heart,
when wind-words held weight enough to topple the thrones of tyrants,
stood the first-born daughter of Ravencrest beneath blood-dark heavens
where shadow-parliament wheeled in circles, crying their ancient wisdom.
She called to the wing-speakers with offerings of silver-salted tears:
"O watchers of the void-spaces, O keepers of the turning years, grant me the gift of far-sight,
the burden of the crown-weight, give me wisdom worth the wearing
though it drag my daughters down to darkness."
Then spoke the eldest of the ravenkind in voices like the void itself:
"Every gift demands its giving, every power finds its price.
Hear now the cost of sight-beyond-seeing, the weight of crown-holding:
When war-wolves circle Ravencrest's walls, when hope has taken wing,
one daughter of your bloodline must bear the bitter changing,
must walk among the conquerors while secretly performing degradation,
thirteen turnings of the moon, gathering poisoned honey till the ritual reaches ripeness."
Mourn, O ravens, carry sorrow on your midnight feathers,
the Queen accepts the bargain and the curse-gift it brings -
her daughters through the ages marked before their birth-moment
to purchase kingdom's freedom with the coin of suffering.
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SECOND MOVEMENT: THE AWAKENING
Three hundred years of peace had dulled memory of the shadow-pact
till bronze-clad legions breached the walls, made ancient myth stark truth.
Queen Morwyn, twenty winters young, felt stirring in her bone-deep,
the curse-call of her foremothers thrumming through the stones.
At midnight came the parliament, a thousand ravens strong,
their cries a symphony of lamentation, invitation, transformation -
she knew then she was chosen for her kingdom's preservation,
to dance the dance of submission that her bloodline owed.
"Teach me the steps," she whispered to the watchers overhead,
"show me how to dance with death and share the tyrant's chamber,
how to smile while rage devours my organs like flame,
how to gather secret knowledge while drowning in dishonor."
The ravens brought her bitter herbs to deaden what she'd feel,
taught her how to fragment self, make false face seem more real than any truth
she'd known before, showed her how to weep the Lament in silence, how to never truly rest.
Grieve, young Morwyn, practice sorrow's ancient artistry,
learn to play the broken bird while planning spite's counterwork -
thirteen moons of patient poison, thirteen turnings of the wheel
till dawn of revelation makes the conquering armies stumble.
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THIRD MOVEMENT: THE SACRED PROFANATION
By day she was their trophy-queen, their symbol of defeat,
dressed in conquerorâs gold and paraded through the streets
where subjects watched in horror as their monarch played the courtesan,
not knowing she catalogued every slight and weakness.
The general claimed her nightly, made her his favorite prize
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while ravens tapped at windows, bringing herbs and counsel.
She learned the ways of tyrants by suffering their touch,
each violation teaching her their vulnerabilities and fears.
She sang the Lament inwardly while smiling at their feasting:
"I am the willing sacrifice, I am the wedding-beast,
I gather up their secrets like a harvest made of anguish -
each moon that passes brings me closer to the cleansing storm."
Her people cursed her memory, called her weak and fallen while she endured defilement,
heard the curse-voice calling: "Eleven moons have passed away,
two more till you are free to shed this skin of servitude and claim your sovereignty."
Weep for the kingdom whose Queen has turned to ash,
or so it seems to those who deal in surfaces and seeming -
but watch the ravens gathering in numbers past all counting,
the pressure of the ritual is steadily mounting.
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FOURTH MOVEMENT: THE DARK REVEALING
On the thirteenth moon's arrival when silver touched the peak,
Queen Morwyn rose from silken sheets, no longer playing weakness.
The transformation had begun - her fingernails turned night-black,
her eyes reflecting nothing but the promise of retribution.
She sang the Lament fully as she walked the marble halls,
no longer hiding what she was - the harbinger of endings.
The general woke to find her changed, no longer his to possess:
her skin was taking wing-shape, her blood running winter-cold.
"What are you?" he whispered as his reaching hand met feather.
"I am the curse of Ravencrest, I am the price of every treasure
you've stolen from my people, I am thirteen moons of rage
transformed to reckoning that writes the final chapter."
The ravens burst through windows in a storm of ancient fury, each one a fragment of her pain
made judge and executioner - they fell upon the conquerors with beaks like sharpened steel
while Morwyn's transformation made the very mountains tremble.
Lament the dying conquerors, for the Queen's humanity watches
as feather replaces flesh in dark divinity -
the price of freedom's magic is the woman that she was.
Power has its own hunger and feeds on what one sacrifices.
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FIFTH MOVEMENT: THE ENDLESS FLIGHT
By dawn she stood upon the tower, neither woman nor yet bird,
her song a chorus of all cries that suffering had voiced
across the centuries, each Queen who'd paid the price,
who'd saved through degradation and ultimate sacrifice.
"I am no longer Morwyn," spoke the thing she'd become,
"I am the Raven Queen eternal, I am all daughters and none.
I've drunk the cup of sorrow till it destroyed me utterly -
now I exist between the worlds where shadow-meanings dwell."
Her wings spread wide - magnificent and terrible to witness,
each feather held a memory of who she used to be.
The crown fell from her raven-head but she no longer cared:
the kingdom had been purchased by the price she'd dared to pay.
"When next the wolves of war arrive to circle Ravencrest's walls, another daughter will arise
to answer when fate calls. I'll guide her through the dance of shame,
thirteen moons of anguish, until she too transforms and joins the shadow-queen's chorus."
Mourn forever for the Queens who cease to be human
in their saving of the realm from tyranny -
the Raven Queen still circles in the space between worlds,
waiting for the next daughter whose fate will be unfurled.
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FINAL MOVEMENT: THE ETERNAL TURNING
She rose into the morning sky, darkness against light,
forever circling Ravencrest, guardian of its destiny -
the woman she had been was gone but something more remained:
a promise that no conqueror would hold what she had won.
Now when the ravens gather thick and feathers fall like rain,
when daughters of the royal blood feel stirring in their veins,
remember those who wore the flesh of traitors for a year,
who gathered up the poison till the moon waxes full.
The Raven Queen's Lament rings out whenever a daughter is called
to wear the most deceptive of all masks -
to save through violation, transformation, and despair,
to join the shadow-parliament that circles in the air.
Forever weep, you witnesses, for innocence betrayed by ancient pacts and bargains
that can never be repaid. The Lament will echo endlessly through time's unraveling thread:
some victories demand the victor join the ranks of the transformed.
But not the peaceful dead who rest - instead the in-between
where Morwyn-who-was circles still, the first and lasting Queen
of ravens, shadows, sacrifice, and sorrow's binding power,
awaiting the next daughter in the kingdomâs darkest hour.
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The wise say that those who sing the Lament with perfect truth risk calling down the Raven Queen's attention.