Dandelions are such fickle flowers.
Raven had always thought so. Even as she crouched in the yard, watching the golden heads sway in the wind. She plucked one, twisted it between her small fingers, and watched the petals fall. The world felt calm. Safe. Foolishly safe.
"Raven! Come help me hang the laundry before it gets too hot!"
Her mother's voice cut through the morning warmth. Soft. Familiar. Loving.
"Coming, Mama!" Raven called, braids swinging as she ran.
Her father, strong and quiet, tied the firewood bundles. "Don't wander too far, little shadow," he said, smiling. That nickname made her chest swell. She loved them. Loved this little yard, this little life.
Then came the first sound.
Boots. Heavy. Relentless. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.
Raven frowned. That sound didn't belong.
"Burn it! Spare no one!"
Smoke. Screams. Chaos. The sun seemed to vanish behind a curtain of black smoke.
Her father grabbed a plank. "Raven… stay behind me!"
She froze. Then the first wave hit. Soldiers. Blades flashing. Boots are crushing everything in their path. The flowers, the earth… her tiny world.
Her mother screamed as the door was smashed open. Fire leapt like a living thing. "Run!"
Neighbours fell around her. Old Mr Liren, who had given her bread yesterday, crumpled to the ground. She couldn't scream. Couldn't breathe.
"Raven!" her father swung, but a boot slammed him into the ground. Blood spread like ink.
"Hide! Please!" her mother cried, covering her with trembling arms.
But mercy did not exist here.
And then came the voice: slurred, ragged, alive.
"Raven! Get out! NOW!"
Uncle Gavran. The drunkard from the alley. Somehow, he was moving fast, his hands gripping hers, dragging her into the shadows.
"Move!" he barked. "Or they'll kill you too!"
Her gaze stayed on the burning yard. On the bodies of the people she loved. On the red rivers running through the dirt. Her chest twisted painfully. She couldn't let go. She didn't want to.
"Raven!" Gavran's voice cracked. "Or you're dead!"
She screamed anyway. Her scream tore through her throat. It didn't sound like her. It sounded broken.
He shoved her into the alley, through smoke and sparks. She coughed. She fell. She got up. Every step burned her lungs.
Finally, he pressed her into a hidden doorway. "You… you're safe… for now," he gasped. "Don't… don't come back."
Her tiny hands clutched her face. "Papa… Mama… why… why?"
Gavran shook his head. His lips quivered. "It's… the King. The soldiers… they don't care. They came for everyone from Elarion. Innocent or not. Don't… don't ever forget it…"
The world had shattered.
Raven curled into herself. Smoke stung her eyes. Fire roared behind her. Blood. Death. Loss. The taste of it would stay forever.
And a single truth cut deeper than any blade:No one is safe. No one is kind. No honour among thieves… or kings.