Lady Lillandra and the Black Raven - Book 2

The second of seven timeless heirlooms meant to be kept on a shelf, later looked upon by older hands while reading through with their young child, now in the throes of wonder and awe... Looking for their own adventure.

Lillandra, now a bit older, ventured on her familiar 

trek. The path to the Whispering Pond, usually 

alive with the chatter of squirrels and the rustling 

of leaves, was draped in an unsettling quiet. 

Even the sun seemed hesitant, casting long, 

distorted shadows that danced like specters 

among the ancient trees.

A peculiar stillness hung in the air, thicker than 

the morning mist. Lilly, as she was fondly known, 

paused, her hand instinctively reaching for the 

worn wooden handle of the small dagger she 

carried, a gift from her father. The forest, once a 

comforting embrace, now felt like a watchful 

observer, its silence heavy with secrets.

As she rounded a bend, the pond shimmered into 

view, its surface as still as glass. Perched on a 

gnarled branch overlooking the water sat a raven 

of impossible blackness. Its feathers seemed to 

absorb the very light, and its eyes glinted with an 

unnerving intelligence. This was no ordinary bird.

The raven tilted its head, and a voice, smooth as 

polished obsidian, echoed in Lilly's mind. 

"Brave Lillandra," it resonated, "the forest whispers your name. You carry the spark of ages within you."