The Song of the Sirin (Raven Son, #1)

by Nicholas Kotar

The creature was shadowy and black, all darkness and chaos spread out like huge wings, and its eyes burned darker than the darkest black. It did not speak so much as groan like falling boulders. She did not need anyone to tell her that this was the Raven. “Too late, Sabíana. You’ve let me in.” The Raven embraced her with wings of shadow and death, and Sabíana choked under their weight and the pressure of the malice bearing down on her. The door flew open with a crash, and a winged fury of dark blue feathers and ice-grey eyes flew into the room. Faintly Sabíana heard the music of wind whistling through reeds. Time ceased for Sabíana. All that remained was the song—wailing, keening, bursting with ancient power. Feína sang, and each note was a barrage of fire-arrows, a forest of spears, a field of slashing blades. Her wings were a rushing wind of fire, hurtling the song at the Raven. He shrieked in agony and hatred and released Sabíana. It felt like the snapping of twine, and Sabíana fell back. But Feína was only one Sirin. Despite her song, despite his pain, his wings moved ever closer, choking her. Feína battled on with voice and talon, trying to gouge out the eyes of black flame, but he repulsed her. Her song faltered, faded, and stopped. Her fire turned into shadow. The Raven growled over his two fallen adversaries. Sabíana closed her eyes, ready for death. A light brighter than the sun shattered the gloom of the Raven, forcing Sabíana’s eyes open. Its edges were red and ...