Riddle Hospital had finished its 50th anniversary and a yearlong celebration that ran through the tail end of 2022, a less restrictive time of the global pandemic, culminating with the ribbon-cutting dedication for the addition of the Doctor Nelson J. Gordon Maternity Ward. A red silk ribbon dangled from each side of its entryway, the only remnant of the dedication ceremony that kicked off the New Year. The smell of freshly applied glue lingered throughout the hallway with its new glassy tiled floors. Tonight, the Maternity Ward welcomed its first official patient.
"Please wait for my instructions before pushing," sternly advised Doctor Gordon, his voice echoing from the delivery room at the end of the wing. "Prematurely pushing can endanger your child's life and worsen your situation."
Doctor Gordon is a renowned obstetrician highly respected in the medical profession and for whom the ward honored in dedication. Despite being forty-two years old, his well-maintained boy-cut hairstyle and moderately fit body make him appear younger than his age. However, his preference for tight golf polos, black hair dye, and styling gel does not deceive anyone. Despite being a skilled medical professional, his reputation for tactlessness and impatience hindered his ability to build positive relationships with his patients and peers. Unfortunately, his demeanor often made him appear a grumpy old man. This evening, he faced a challenging situation as he had to decide whether to allow Steven Broderick to attend his wife's delivery - as he rarely allowed husbands in the delivery room. But today, he figured that this show of compassion might help his chances of being promoted to Chief of Staff of the hospital, and the husband did meet him halfway—he wasn't going to be able to videotape the birth.
"There you go, Elizabeth… that's right…keep your concentration focused on your breathing," said Doctor Gordon as Elizabeth Kincaid-Broderick stopped pushing and began to breathe rhythmically.
As three young nurses entered the delivery room, they chatted amongst themselves, paying no attention to Steven, who stood beside his wife. Despite his unremarkable appearance with thinning black hair and a boyish face, Steven's hazel green eyes were noteworthy and often drew extra attention. However, he disliked being stared at and felt uneasy when people pointed them out.
"Did you hear about the crazy young man in the E.R. earlier talking about being attacked by a butterfly at Brandywine?" A posing question by Samantha, a blonde woman who appeared older but had a physique that made her look like a recent high school graduate.
"The E.R. nurse said he had only a stump for a hand. Was that true?" Heather, the brunette of the group, answered with a question as she closed the door behind them.
The Head Nurse, Samantha Kelly, politely intervened. She requested the talkative pair to fetch towels from the nearby linen room. Additionally, she asked Kristen, the more professional-looking nurse, to confirm the location of the anesthesiologist on duty. The Head Nurse had short brown hair and wore glasses that beautifully framed her nose. She is a nurse with twenty years of experience at Riddle and was excited to work alongside Doctor Gordon for the third year. She appreciated his hands-on approach and looked forward to their shift together. To ensure a manageable workload, Nurse Kelly only requested three nurses from the hospital's staffing for the night.
Doctor Gordon's face became visibly irritated as Steven snapped his chewing gum under his front teeth. "Mr. Broderick, please be mindful that we are trying to concentrate here," he said, pointing to the wastebasket and indicating that Steven should dispose of the gum. In response, Steven quickly swallowed it. "You will not be testing my patience tonight," snapped Doctor Gordon, kicking the wastebasket behind him. "One more time, and you WILL be waiting down the hall!"
Fifteen and a half hours ago, Elizabeth's nightmare began—her legs lifted into stirrups and her whole body covered in tubes and wires. As she gazed longingly at the I.V. drip next to her bed, her eyes widened with thirst. The clear fluid within its plastic casing seemed to taunt her. Releasing a deep exhale, she was grateful that her contractions had subsided momentarily.
"You're a real trooper, and the doctor says you're a natural," smiled Steven. "Bethy, you look thirsty…." He picked up a cup filled with ice chips from a tray. "Let me give you some ice."
The head nurse tapped Steven on his shoulder as she saw him grab the cup; her actions accidentally startled him into dropping its contents onto the floor.
As Elizabeth's contractions persisted, she asked her husband if he had contacted her mother and brother. However, she rolled her eyes in frustration at his clumsiness when he accidentally dropped a cup of ice, causing it to scatter on the floor. Steven apologized and awkwardly gestured to the nurse for assistance while attempting to pick up the fallen ice chips. Elizabeth let out a dry and painful scream.
"I haven't called your brother yet. I don't remember what the time difference is in Brazil."
"Excuse me, Mr. Broderick," Head Nurse Kelly interjected firmly as she deftly scooped up the remaining ice chips and handed them back to him. "At the moment, your wife cannot have any ice. Additionally, her contractions are intensifying, so she must focus solely on her breathing and not talking."
Steven examined the half-empty cup and quietly placed it into the waste basket.
"Wait…are you sure she can't have any ice? Look at her…she needs water," He asked again.
One of the young nurses, Samantha, walked him away from Elizabeth's bedside and pointed toward the intravenous pouch. "If you're concerned about dehydration, we have it all under control," she whispered with a fake smile; her sincere tone shocked him at how unnatural it was, as she didn't even try to show any genuine concern.
"Uhhhhhh!" cried Elizabeth as she pushed again.
"Elizabeth, please…you have to stop with the pushing!" shouted Doctor Gordon as he watched the baby's vitals race. Realizing what could be causing the problem, he felt tightness along her abdomen and whispered, "That's odd." He placed his palm onto her stomach again, applying pressure around her navel. His eyes blinked slowly in exhaustion as sweat began to drip off his forehead; the tiny droplets rolled onto his eyelashes, causing his eyes to blur.
"Doctor?" Nurse Kelly handed him a towel, and he quickly wiped the sweat off his face and sighed.
After locating the base of the baby's head, Doctor Gordon announced that the baby's positioning was not the issue. The doctor's statement took Steven aback as he searched for the obstruction's cause.
"Isn't there anything you can do for her, Doctor Gordon?" interrupted Steven. "I cannot bear to see my wife in so much pain…and her face is so pale."
"Mr. Broderick, labor is intensive and, in some cases, harder than it should be, hence the usage of the word LABOR…and there is no harder job in the world than welcoming new life. Now come with me, please," said Doctor Gordon as he calmly escorted him out of the delivery room.
"Where are we going?" Steven tried to understand why he had to leave as the doctor continued to walk him down the long hallway.
"All should be textbook," began Doctor Gordon.
Steven came to a sudden halt and asked, "Should be?" He nervously bit his lower lip.
The doctor reassured him, "I'm not sure how many deliveries you've witnessed, Steven, but your wife is not in immediate danger. However, I am concerned about your son." He placed a comforting hand on Steven's back as they walked down the hallway.
"Doctor, can you please explain what's going on?" Steven asked firmly, preferring to skip any small talk.
The doctor opened the door to the waiting room, securing a brass key into the top lock as he gave the doorknob a quick, sharp turn of his wrist. An unsettling echo of the dead bolt's unlatching thundered throughout the hallway—signifying that the whole wing was empty.
"Steven, I want to be upfront with you and provide you with all the information you have the right to know." The doctor met his gaze.
A single tear trickled down Steven's cheek, but he quickly brushed it away with his sleeve. "Please, go ahead," he whispered as the doctor closed the door.
"Your wife is in full dilation…and under normal conditions; this should be good news."
Steven flinched and moved back.
"Here is the problem…it looks as if the baby is having some sort of distress," explained the doctor as he walked past him. "Your son appears to have had a growth spurt in the last four hours, and If Elizabeth continues with her aggressive pattern of pushing through the contractions…she could very well damage herself and the baby." He paused for a moment and wiped his face. "Steven...Mr. Broderick, we are going to have to perform an emergency c-section," he knew that the Brodericks were against surgery and would probably yell for even suggesting the medical procedure.
"So, what's the problem?" said Steven.
The doctor was surprised and taken aback by the reaction.
"I was the one who wanted Bethy to give birth naturally." he rubbed his forehead rapidly as he continued to explain, "Her mother Shirley had both of her children by cesarean….and she always talked about how she regretted that she didn't insist on natural childbirth."
"Excuse me, Steven," Doctor Gordon interrupted as he attempted to provide further explanation.
"I figured that it would have been…I don't know. We shouldn't even be discussing this...Bethy probably would rather have you perform the cesarean... she's close with her mother…" prattled Steven as he paced back and forth; "…we were originally planning to videotape the entire delivery since her brother Matthew is out of the country."
Doctor Gordon expressed his concern, "We had planned to perform the cesarean after eight hours of labor. However, we are currently facing some difficulties locating the anesthesiologist. I understand that waiting can be difficult for your wife," He abruptly paused mid-sentence as he heard the sound of keys jingling outside the room.
Head Nurse Kelly slowly opened the door, dropping her keys as she walked in. "Sorry, Doctor…but we are ready for you in the delivery room…it's time," she huffed, picking up the keys. "Mr. Broderick, you are moments away from fatherhood," she smiled as she quickly walked up to Doctor Gordon and whispered discreetly into his ear.
"This is good news; I am so sorry for worrying you," Doctor Gordon addressed Steven and informed him that the anesthesiologist had been found and was preparing his wife for surgery.
The nurse held the door open for the doctor, "A couple more hours," She smiled again.
As Steven imagined the possibility of holding his son, tears welled up in his eyes once again. Doctor Gordon warned him not to leave the room and advised him to try to calm down, reassuring him that everything would be fine.
"Doctor, that's my life in there," said Steven as he placed both palms over each eye, rubbing them softly from side to side. He saw a carafe filled with freshly brewed coffee as he picked up a magazine and tossed it back onto a table with about fifty magazines scattered everywhere.
"That's it, Mr. Broderick…why don't you have yourself a hot cup of coffee," Doctor Gordon smiled while he exited. "Maybe watch a little television."
"That's excellent advice," Steven responded as the door shut behind them.
"First-time fathers are always a handful. So, who's the anesthesiologist on duty tonight?" Doctor Gordon whispered to the nurse as she locked the door.
"Doctor Jasmine Curtis," She nervously voiced, remembering the rumors that Doctor Gordon had a romantic falling out with the anesthesiologist earlier in his career when he first came to Riddle. Her palm slapped against the swinging doors to the prepping area of the delivery room, thrusting them open as she quickly escorted him to the sink. "The anesthesiologist had finished administering the epidural when I left to get you," exclaimed Head Nurse Kelly, grabbing the soap. She was trying to think of a way to tell the doctor why Doctor Curtis was hard to find as it appeared she might be about five months pregnant, and that was probably the reason she was napping in the on-call room.
"Not so rough…easy…hot water…would you please tell me why you are rushing me if the patient is ready for surgery?" flinched Doctor Gordon in discomfort. "If you are trying to beat some world record for the fastest scrubbing, you got it."
She dried Doctor Gordon's hands and discreetly told him as they rushed into the room, "Jasmine is pregnant." She immediately stepped back a couple of paces as she saw a pool of blood by Elizabeth's bedside. She quickly grabbed some towels and placed them by the door, looking around the room, wondering where everyone was.
"Nurse Kelly, I know she's pregnant. Why is there blood on the floor, and where's Doctor Curtis?" he exclaimed, observing her efforts to clean up the mess.
"It wasn't like this when I left to get you. I instructed the nurses to get extra towels if we needed them while Doctor Jasmine Curtis was prepping the patient." She explained, noticing that the door to the linen room was closed. "But that was over twenty minutes ago when I left." She pointed.
"So, they left Mrs. Broderick unattended for over twenty minutes…that still doesn't explain why Nurse Curtis wouldn't be here," said Doctor Gordon.
"Maybe she had to use the restroom," Head Nurse Kelly said as she began to yell out for the nurses, "The doctor needs access to the area!" She grabbed a nearby linen basket and filled it with the bloodied towels on the floor around the bed. Her foot slid onto the blood, missing a fall by inches.
"Please watch your step," said Doctor Gordon. "Mrs. Broderick shouldn't be losing this much blood. Something must be wrong."
Head Nurse Kelly dropped one of the bloody towels in frustration onto the floor near the two clean towels, blocking the door as she tried to stop the pool of blood from reaching the doorframe.
"Please…again…be very careful. I can't risk losing my skillful nurse if you fall." Doctor Gordon noticed that the vital signs monitor was not on as he tried to see where the blood was coming from; he immediately wondered why a blanket covered the patient’s face and why her legs were no longer in the stirrups. "Once you find the nurses, ask them why they stopped getting the patient ready for transfer to the operating room. Also, why unplug the monitor? That should be the last thing before we move her to surgery. Is there a reason there’s a blanket draped over her like this?" He lightly tugged at the end of the blanket—it didn't budge. "It's stuck on something."
Head Nurse Kelly looked back at the door to the linen room—the door remained closed. "Where are they…" she thought as she excused herself to check on the nurses.
"Doctor Curtis should never have left her post while a patient is under local," grumbled Doctor Gordon. "Get the nurses out here as quick as possible to mop up this floor!" He finished with a shout as he saw Head Nurse Kelly walk into the linen room.
A cricket scurried by Head Nurse Kelly's feet as she closed the door behind her.
"Oh…that's great…that's all the doctor needs to see…so much for our sterile environment." Her foot became caught onto something on the floor, and she stumbled backward, her head knocking a small light bulb hanging on a cord from the ceiling; the light bounced back and forth across the room. She fell to the floor, her head slamming against—"…a body?" She whispered in confusion. "Call me clumsy. On the way in, I tripped on something," she laughed. "I'm so sorry if I knocked you down with me." She was about to get up when her eyes caught what had broken her fall. "Oh…no…" she gasped.
Her limbs buckled under her weight at the sight of the repulsion before her—all three nurses laid out over each other, their throats cut from ear to ear.
"N... N.N.N…No." She stuttered in a gasping whisper, abruptly crawling along the floor to reach the door, her knees slipping and sliding on the blood that streamed along her path. Desperately she reached outward for the knob when she noticed the glimmer of a steel blade refracting the light onto her face from the still-swinging bulb above her. A quick shock from the razor's bite sliced across her neck from left to right—pearled droplets of blood gushed downward. She gripped her throat, swallowing the blood that swilled towards her lips. Head Nurse Kelly arched her body as her last moments of life twitched with the blood spilling from her neck. She gasped and coughed for the welcomed air failing to reach her lungs. Uncontrolled body spasms rolled across her now lifeless body as her eyes jolted wide open, and her pupils appeared focused on a lone cricket resting on her eyelid.
Doctor Gordon paused at the eerie silence that crept into the room, "Nurse Kelly?" he asked as he looked back at the linen closet and squinted his eyes. The doctor knelt, directing his attention to the monitor as he plugged it back into the wall, stepping lightly into the pool and losing his footing when he applied weight. Quickly, he stepped back off the slippery surface.
An erratic beeping noise startled him forward, causing him to step back down again, falling face-first into the salty, bitter pool of blood; Elizabeth's vitals had flat-lined the moment he plugged in the machine.
Doctor Gordon laid still, slowly moving his arms and legs, ensuring he didn't break or sprain any of his bones. "I have to get up..." he thought as he prepared to push himself off the floor by bracing his hand underneath his right side. Unexpectedly, he noticed that the blood was disappearing around him, almost as though it was seeping through the cracks of the linoleum tiles.
"What is going on here…" He wondered, scratching his head, "Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought…and…for some reason…." He looked on in amazement as all the blood evaporated before his eyes. "Yes, I do believe I have suffered a concussion." He tiredly laughed as he staggered up off the floor. He was about to walk toward his patient when he felt an annoying tickle on his arm. He twisted his wrist quickly; a cicada scurried from underneath his sleeve. Doctor Gordon yelped like a child at the sight of the insect lying on his wrist, its antennas moving slowly, swaying forward. He reached back in haste, searching for anything to knock the insect off with; each of his fingers thumbed across a long medical tray like he was playing the keys on a piano.
"There has to be something I can use…." Doctor Gordon shrieked again; the insect had triggered a childhood phobia that he had long forgotten, especially his fear of cicadas.
Quickly, he grabbed an item as though it had been handed to him by some unforeseen person. He jabbed it across his wrist and forearm, resulting in a deep gaping wound across his arm; blood flowed through as he gazed at the item in his hand—a bloody scalpel.
"Nurse…I need help here," yelled Doctor Gordon as his arm continued to gush blood down his palm. "I had an accident out here…and need someone to perform C.P.R. on Mrs. Broderick STAT!"
"Where did that cicada go?" Doctor Gordon shrieked again as he began to feel all itchy to the point where it was as though thousands of bugs were crawling on his body, "Oh my…God! What is happening to me?" He shook his body violently as he dug into his bare skin with his soft fingertips; the anxiety had him reeling as though the insects were inside him. He stopped when he heard the linen room door open and close. He was about to turn around when he saw another cicada dart pass him. "No…no more bugs…please! Nurse Kelly, you must help me…I cannot stop scratching…" he said, hearing only one set of footsteps approaching.
The footsteps stopped directly behind him. He felt a hot breath on his back and neck as he saw a cricket crawling across the floor. The single cricket turned to ten, and another and another came scurrying out until the floor became covered entirely with insects. He dared not move a single muscle as the breathing continued to baste his back. He wanted to move but couldn't, as the phobia was under total control, causing the muscles in his body to tense up.
"I am going to turn around now," Doctor Gordon repeated aloud.
A deep, unearthly growl accompanied by the sound of crickets spoke to him, "Your current circumstances would recommend that you don't turn around." The voice should be familiar to the reader; Flauros, the Grand Duke of Hell, has returned to our story.
Doctor Gordon felt sick at the aggressive odor flushed over his senses; sulfur filled his lungs.
"As for this woman, she is quite dead," laughed the demon. "Not that she would have survived giving birth to the abomination within her womb. The machinations of the magician are in motion."
"Who are you…why did you do this to Mrs. Broderick?" Doctor Gordon asked, his voice cracked nervously.
"I ate the soft belly and the sack of flesh before it was birthed…thus stopping his schemes." It laughed.
The lights in the room flickered off as Doctor Gordon felt the stranger brushing against him; the pungent odor of decay flowed freely in the room as the outsider tried to walk past him. He strained his eyes in the darkness, trying to see what was happening as he heard crunching bones coming from Elizabeth's direction.
"Doctor, do you believe in magic? Not that it matters otherwise. Please, tell me that you are at least a religious man." The demon continued in harsh tones so intense in bass octaves that the rumble would blow any speaker drum.
"What are you talking about?" asked Doctor Gordon as he heard the continuing sound of tearing flesh. He felt a gust of wind shoot past him with the sound of fluttering wings as he felt the brushing of the blanket covering Elizabeth fly past him and across the room.
"Doctor, don't you wish to answer my question first?" growled Flauros. "It is vital that you answer me truthfully."
He felt the breathing down onto his back again.
"How did you move behind me so quickly?" Doctor Gordon asked as he felt a cricket drop onto his head and crawl down his neck, "Please, what do you want from me?"
Without warning, the lights turned back on, thrusting Doctor Gordon into an unforeseen nightmare.
"Dear...Lord...what have you done?" He gasped and coughed as he saw what remained of Elizabeth's body: twisted fragmented bones punctured across flesh, her head crushed to an unrecognizable mass of blood and brain matter and scalp, and a huge gaping hole laid open across her belly—her child missing.
The demon laughed from behind him; its thunderous growl shook the entire room again. "You smell devout."
"What do you want from me?" Doctor Gordon heard the strange flapping of wings again as the temperature warmed like a sauna.
The lights flickered off again, filling the room with the sounds of crickets. The noise stopped as the unsettling humidity slowly dissipated, cooling the room within minutes. The doctor remained still as he heard the flapping of wings continue behind him.
"What is it that I want from you, Doctor?"
The doctor felt a tight grip on his right shoulder, a tingling numbness as claws dug into his skin. He looked down at his shoulder, gasping as he saw a monstrous blackened hand gripping him as crickets scuttled off. "Dear Lord." He whispered.
"You ARE a religious man," its laugh boomed. "I had hoped you were of Catholic faith…but alas, you are Jewish."
"What does that have to do with anything?”
A glint from a metal blade darted past Doctor Gordon's eyes, followed by a quick burn and bite across his neck.
"It has everything to do with my need to feed. Unlike your religion's dietary restrictions, meat is meat...Kosher or otherwise."
Ravenwing Blackfeather skipped along the river's edge as she carefully searched the partially snow-covered ground beneath her—she was on a mission. Usually, a child her age would be in school today, but a ten-year-old warrior can scale fences, leaving the world open to continue her hunt. Within her mindset, she was a hunter on a quest of sorts. She had tracked the surrounding brush along Brandywine before but felt she would find something special today.
"I know it's here...I know it," giggling, she knelt on one knee and brushed aside a pack of snow. Raven believes she is a tracker, a great warrior born of Lenape blood, and the gods of the Earth had given her this mission—such are the delusions of being an only child with a wild imagination. "The scent is here," she continued with her game, sprinting past the large trees and towards the park entrance. She stopped and sat on the cold, gravel-covered ground with her legs crisscrossed. A sudden feeling of loneliness fell over her, not that this feeling was a stranger to her; all the other children in her neighborhood were a lot older, and they didn't like her differences—born of Native American and West African descent, she was considered a mutt and not one of the tribe. "Why doesn't anyone like me?" She placed her hands on her knees and whispered as she looked down, "...no one knows anything about me." Her voice squeaked and stuttered. She almost began to cry when a small blue butterfly landed on her hand.
"Hello." She said with a smile and a squint from her tear-filled eyes. "My name's Ravenwing, but…all the kids call me Raven." Unafraid, the butterfly crawled along her hand, slowly opening and closing its wings. "You have such pretty wings." She said softly, precariously, as she touched its soft, powdered wings. "A pretty electric blue, and they look so..." Her shadow eclipsed the sunlight, startling the butterfly into the air.
"Oh no! Why are you leaving?" Raven quickly stood up, centering her attention on the butterfly's fluttering. "I wasn't going to hurt you, none," she rubbed her eyes, accidentally losing track of the butterfly. "Where did you go?" sighing, she saw something move inside the shrubbery. "You have to be behind that bush." She laughed, skipping past the park benches and towards the asphalt driveway. "Oh…oh…" Noticing strange scorch markings, she knelt to examine the ground. "What happened here?" She asked as she ran her fingertips along the small, burned etchings, each resembling at least twenty different butterfly wing patterns. Curiosity brought her fingertips to her nose, sniffing them quickly. "Smells gross…like my mom's ashtray." Images of her mother, Trisha, came to mind as she rubbed down on her nose with her open palm; her mother is a chain smoker. "Now isn't the time for such things," she remarked out of context as she quickly shook her head. "Where did you fly off to?" Raven asked the sky above when her eye spotted a glimmer of metal coming from the middle of the road. "What is that…." She walked over to the object, a knapsack made of dark brown suede. "Someone lost you, didn't they?" She cautiously examined it, tugging lightly at its strap. "It sure is old and stuffy smelling." She sniffed at the leather and pulled the sack close as she sat back on the ground. "It's heavy, too!" She heaved it on top of her lap, finally loosening its strap. She was about to open it when the blue butterfly landed on her hand again.
"Ah, there you are." She lifted her hand to her face, smiling. "Where did you go?" The butterfly jumped onto her nose, causing Raven's eyes to cross. "I can still see you…you know." She pulled her finger to her nose, coaxing the butterfly to crawl onto it. "Would you like to see what's inside this neat pouch, too?" She set the butterfly on her knee as she slowly opened the knapsack so as not to scare it away again. A cavern of suede darkness beckoned to the butterfly as it crawled inside the knapsack, "Uh...oh...be careful," exclaimed Raven as she delicately placed her hand inside to scare the butterfly back out. "It tickles," a giggle and a chuckle erupted as she felt a weird tickling all over her hand and arm. She tried to pull her arm back out, but her actions caused her to accidentally drop the knapsack off her knees with the flap left open, exposing its contents - a brown, leather-bound book. "Oh…are you hurt?" Ignoring the book, she opened the knapsack wider and searched inside delicately; her only concern was the butterfly. A quick blur of color flashed across her eyes as fifty or more butterflies rushed from within the darkened opening of the knapsack. Raven was amazed at the sight of many colors; her mind filled with awe as she gripped tightly onto the leather straps, keeping the knapsack open—each butterfly crawled to its edge and fluttered into the air like a bottle rocket in slow motion. The dazzling display lasted for five minutes, though it lasted for what seemed to be hours; all the while, she remained still and silent. The first electric blue butterfly slowly returned towards Raven, landing back on the knapsack and immediately breaking her away from her current state of jubilation.
"Hello…again," she blinked, noticing the book. She picked it up, opened it to the first page, and closed it. A medallion made of silver embedded within its top cover immediately caught her attention. She opened the book again and read an inscription on the inside cover—
"To my Little Dreamer, Azure, these visions are yours, and may they guide you on the right path at the many crossroads that you will come to in your life," gasping, she looked down at the book and continued, "It is signed by…uhm…." She hesitated as she could not make out the name; the inscription had recently been water-damaged. "Grandmother," she continued to read to herself, running her finger along the next, the last line, "…your Creed Elder."
Raven hugged the book and smiled, "I found it…I found what I was looking for." She placed the book back in the knapsack, securing its strap as she whispered. "I am not alone anymore."