When the Raven Calls

Prologue (3 Years, 7 Months, and 10 Days Ago)

THE DIG SITE WAS PULSATING with life, even though it was well into the night. Over the hill, if you listened, you could just barely hear the rush of the Lehorn River, but that night, not a single person was listening. They were all occupied, shuffling around the man standing in the center of a deep hole, holding a ring like it was the most precious thing in the world.

The ring itself wasn't all that remarkable--it was made of plain, more than slightly tarnished gold. If one hadn't known its bloody history, they might have thought it was worthless. That would have been their mistake, as Warren Yaxley--the man in question--had already killed men in pursuit of the mythical ring, including several that night who were unfortunate enough to have touched it.

He rubbed away the excess dirt, revealing a small symbol etched into the inside surface of the ring, not unlike a child's scribble. The zig-zag image, almost like a stretched M, seemed to prove something, for he slipping the ring on at once. A slow, sinister smile spread across his face as he felt the ring begin to work its magic.

Everything was silent for a moment, the only noise the faint gurgle from the river. Then a warm breeze drifted past them, and as if they were waiting for that cue, whispers of "what do you think" and "what's going to happen" floated through the crowd.

The entire land seemed to stir in its sleep as it felt the approach of a new age.

OVER the next few weeks (then months), strange things started happening. Most called it coincidence, though more and more dared to whisper the truth--magic was returning to the land. Very few had witnessed the night with Yaxley, and even less had walked away alive, so it wasn't a surprise that only a select few knew the truth of what had caused the mysterious return of magic. Still, even if there was no clue as to why or how, everyone knew the truth within a year.

After thousands of years of silence, magic had returned.