∆ • • •
They were called the seven deadly sins.
Except there weren't seven.
There were only six.
Until Raven.
• • • ∆
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Waves brushed against the rounded pebbles on the soft sand near a small jetty where fishing boats docked. A girl in ragged clothes watched as the lean men strained against the current to rope their poorly crafted vessel to the small wooden stage they built.
The girl sat right where the water flowed in a gentle, foamy current against her dirty trousers, but stopped before it reached her hips. She watched the waves lapping against the fishermen's boat in a lulling motion.
She closed her eyes and willed for the waves to still; one of the men unloading the meager amount of fish they caught was her great-grandson.
She watched as the fishermen stopped struggling and looked stunned at the calm waters surrounding them. Not a single wave rippled in the vast expanse of water as far as the eye could see. Their awe lasted for a moment; their tedious, harsh lives stole away the light feeling of childish wonder and replaced it with the sour taste of responsibility.
Her great-grandchild ended up carrying most of the load, and she watched him from a distance, carrying four fish in the large, frayed net to feed his family. The other two men carried two fish each in their hands; they had split their catch according to family size.
She slowly lay herself down onto the soft sand of the island and closed her eyes. When she awoke once more, she saw flames encircling the perimeter of her body.
Red flames.
Orange flames.
Yellow flames.
One cloaked figure.
She kept her eyes open, but she kept her back flat against the damp sand beneath her. The tide was now rolling in with a harsher force and soaked almost the entirety of her body, but the flames kept flickering, even as the water rolled past the base of the tongues of flames.
The figure took off its hood, revealing soft black hair and slitted eyes. She knew who he was, and she was not remotely happy about the identity of her visitor. She got up and slightly bowed her head in respect before she spoke, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Death?"
"The girl, Raven, has escaped my palace. You will watch over her until I deem her ready for capture. I would like a daily report on her every movement."
"You're assuming she's traveling by sea?"
Death looked away from her. "She will eventually have to cross the sea, of that I am sure."
"So you would like daily reports of what she does only when she's traveling over sea?"
