Fan Fiction ❯ The Raven Chronicles ❯ Act I ( Prologue )

…Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

- Edgar Allen Poe (The Raven)

Prologue-

I was born Ravenna Alexiel Kavanagh exactly 16 years ago today, in a small town about 60 miles west of Dublin, Ireland. Yes Ireland, land of leprechauns, potatoes, and vast green fields. Unfortunately I haven't been to Ireland since I was 4 years old, so my memories of it are slim. I did, however, manage to take with me a slight accent, something that I am either praised or teased about constantly. I don't think I really look Irish though, save for a few freckles scattered lightly over my nose. My hair isn't red though, the complete opposite actually, try pitch black. I'm actually quite fond of my hair, not that I obsess over it; I just take pride in it. How many people have thick, long black hair that reaches their hips? What's really cool about mine though is that in the right light you can see blue in it, almost as though someone had lightly highlighted my hair dark blue. My hair is also the reason that all my friends, few as they are, call me Raven. Only my mom, when she's mad mind you, and the teachers call me Ravenna. I should probably explain my dad huh? Well backing up a bit, he was the reason that we left Ireland in the first place. It's one of the few memories of Ireland that I can remember as if it was yesterday. It was the night that my mom came home crying and my Uncle Riley trailing behind her trying to calm her down. It wasn't until a few hours later that I found out my Dad had died, in some freak car accident believe it or not. Only a week later after a quick closed casket funeral, mom and I took the next flight for the States. I guess I should mention that my mom is American, thus explaining the reason for my Black hair. My Dad was the Irish one; in my dreams sometimes I can still hear his rich accent ringing in my ears as he told me some old Gaelic story to put me to sleep. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but on the night my Dad died, something just didn't feel right. I always brushed it off as me being in a state of shock, or maybe my memory being off considering I was oh….4 at the time! Yet, I can't shake this feeling that something was off. Sometimes I have dreams, there's this girl, about my age, dressed completely in white and standing behind a fire, just staring at the fire with sad eyes. Her hair is silver and flows down to her thighs, no not gray, I mean silver, almost white. Oh yes I should mention her eyes; they're what really gets me, considering that I've only seen them once. It's almost as though she doesn't want me to remember them. Every time I try to look she turns her head or the fire disguises their color, but once I saw them. They were a dark purple and sparkling with life. The funny thing is that I can hear music, not just any music but I certain song I know that I'll never forget. It was the same song that my dad sang to me when I was little. Yeah I know, I sound like some Indian storyteller or something, but that's my honest opinion. I told my mom once, but she only smiled and told me not to watch so many bizarre movies. I couldn't help but notice how strained her smile was. I think that was the day that I decided something was really wrong with what happened with my Dad. I started putting facts together, like why was my Uncle with my mom that night? Why was the funeral closed-casket? Why did we have to leave Ireland where most of our family was? The more I thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. So, being the naturally curious girl that I was, I did a wee bit of investigating. It is here that my normal teenage life ended, and I was thrown into the unbelievable world that is the Raven Chronicles.