The Raven

Three

For as long as he can remember, the raven has been forced to practice magic most of his time. It had been ingrained in his head since his creation that perfecting his skills must always remain his top priority; even as a toddler, it prevailed over learning to walk and speak.

Practicing magic while your heart is otherwise occupied, though, can lead to dire consequences, as Raven has come to learn. One's thoughts and emotions must be wholly controlled to achieve the desired outcome from the forces he is using. This is precisely Raven's problem--he has absolutely no interest whatsoever in magic. His heart simply yearns for one thing: to be loved unconditionally. And unfortunately for him, that is something his magic cannot provide for him.

On the rare occurrence that he is granted free time, the raven indulges in reading, using books to temporarily escape his gloomy reality. Even if only in his imagination, the distraction is undoubtedly welcomed. The boy has poured over the pages of his favorite fairytales, memorizing the stories of princesses locked in towers, of knights in shining armor coming to their rescue--or, possibly, a handsome and charming prince. Though he is definitely not a princess, perhaps it is these tales that have given Raven the undying hope that someday his true love will save him from his prison, as well.

However, there is the minor detail that it would be nearly impossible for someone to love another as disgusting as he.

With a forlorn sigh, the boy pushes the thoughts of love and fairytales out of his mind. After all, Mother would say that those ideas are simply dreams, as well. That true love does not exist, aside from the stories filling the pages of the bound books he appreciates so much. That he is only fooling himself into thinking that someone might actually care about him someday. It is impossible, you know, since his own mother does not.

Redirecting his attention back to the task at hand, Raven does his best to focus on the magic flowing through him. Closing his eyes, he swiftly shifts into his raven form, his black wings shimmering in the glowing moonlight. He is undoubtedly a sight to behold in this form--for the type of person who finds beauty in birds, that is. His raven is sleek, almost majestic, with a bluish tinge to the darkness of his feathers. Stretching his wings, he effortlessly flutters through the room, masterfully conquering the exercise as if he has done it infinite times before. After maintaining the shift for a few minutes, the boy returns to his human form, catching sight of his thin frame, vampire-pale pallor, and messy mane in the mirror.

If only he could remain a bird forever...

With his shift under control, the raven hurriedly moves on to his next task, utilizing the energy he feels buzzing inside of him. The magic thrums in his veins, practically begging to be let out. He wastes no more time in obliging. Holding up his left palm, the boy imagines a black cloud of smoke, concentrating on the image in his mind until it appears in his hand.

"Well done, Raven," Mother praises, interrupting his practice and ultimately dissolving the smoke as if it never existed. "I see that you are improving," she says, relief filling her at the realization that the boy is not a total failure as she had previously thought. Heaven knows he has a history of disappointing her.

"Thank you, Mother," he replies, feeling entirely uncomfortable with her sudden appearance.

How long had she been watching him? And why did she not make her presence known? Performing in front of an audience has always been a difficult task for the raven, even if the only other person ever present was his mother. Maybe especially because of his mother; her intense, scrutinizing gaze adds a significant amount of pressure.

"You could still use some more work, though," his mother critiques, the immense desire and obligation to fulfill her destiny leaving no room for sparing the creature's feelings. Not that she would care about them anyway. She needs the raven to be in top form if she wants to be successful. "Your shift was excellent, but the smoke took far too long to conjure. Make sure to continue practicing," she says, leaning against the wall at the back of the room with her arms crossed over her chest. "Well, go on. I would like to see what else you have learned."

Knowing his mother is watching fills Raven's belly with a swarm of anxious butterflies or, more appropriately, angry hornets. However, he does his best to ignore her burning gaze. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and holds up his hands, drawing forth his mother's shadow. Control of the shadow quickly becomes his as he gestures his hands in the air, causing the darkened form of his mother to do an awkward dance that the woman herself would not be caught dead performing. Though not at all amused with the choice of movements, the raven's mother seems quite satisfied with the new development in his magic--what she thinks is new, anyway.

"Wonderful," remarks Mother, her eyes lighting with an unfamiliar sincerity. If Raven did not know better, he might assume it to be pride. He would sorely be mistaken, though; she has never been proud of him a moment in his life. "I believe that with practice, this could become a most beneficial skill. Not the dancing, of course, but controlling shadows could serve our purpose quite efficiently."

"Thank you, Mother," the raven repeats, his eyes popping open as his mind rages with muddled thoughts. He wishes he knew what "purpose" she was talking about. She has never really explained to him what he is supposed to be preparing for, and she refuses to talk about it in much detail when he asks. Perhaps if he knew what he should expect, he might be more forthcoming with information himself. He is confident his mother would enjoy hearing just how advanced he has managed to become with particular abilities, but he has no reason to share the news with her. He does not trust her--primarily because she evidently does not trust him, either.

Though finding her behavior highly suspicious, Raven decides it is best not to push his mother on the subject quite yet. He is sure he will know when the right time is to demand answers. In the meantime, it is likely in his best interest to pacify her by giving only what is necessary. It is precisely how he has managed to survive under her care for so long.

"Continue," Mother says, interrupting her son's train of thought. She gestures with her hand at him as if he is meant to know exactly what she means.

Unfortunately, he does; this has been the whole of their relationship since he was a small boy. He remembers his youth vividly, his mother's empty words of encouragement and false praises that had once meant so much to him. In the beginning, he had believed them to be a sign of her affection for him, back when she had not purposefully allowed her true feelings to be apparent. Back when he thought she might actually care about him. It was a sad day for the raven when he learned this was definitely not the case.

With a slight shake of his head, the boy clears his mind, saving those thoughts for another time. Instead, he focuses once more on his training, muting his strengths under his mother's gaze; perhaps, if she becomes frustrated enough with his lack of progress, she will slip and spill the secrets she has been harboring about her intentions. But if not, then at least Raven will maintain the upper hand; it is a win-win if you ask him.