Quoth the Raven

by _NAME_

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Original Character, Mystery
Length: 7017

A novelization of Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Raven" with ponies.

A novelization of Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Raven" with ponies.

Once upon a midnight dreary, a middle-aged earth pony scholar sits in his study pouring over ancient books, struggling to distract himself from memories of his recently deceased lover. To him, it would seem a night like countless others before, but then his otherwise peaceful evening is disturbed by a mysterious tapping sound from his front door. Unbeknownst to him, this noise is only the start of more trouble.

Quoth the Raven...

Published 2012-06-03 09:34:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-01 18:48:56 UTC

...Nevermore

Quoth the Raven

Rcw99

I was depressed beyond measure.

My heart felt agonizingly heavy in my chest, my mind laden with hollow feelings of loneliness and regret that overwhelmed me ceaselessly. This was a burden that I did not want to and could not bear.

I was sitting in my study, reading and rereading every book I could get my hooves on, in a desperate attempt to divert my mind from less than pleasant subjects. I strained to read the words in the rapidly dying light and rubbed my eyes with a free hoof. I did not know how long I had been sitting in that dimly illuminated room. Had it been only a few hours? Or had those hours stretched into days, weeks or months?

I did not know.

I had not left my house since that that fateful day, when my heart was broken and my happier thoughts escaped me. The months had gone by in a blur. I could vaguely remember wandering through the house, drifting from room to room, in a desolate trance, hardly noticing the passage of time, sleeping only when my brain and body gave way from exhaustion.

I could remember guests—my friends and my family, mostly—as they came and went from the house, but I never really acknowledged them. I could remember hearing them mumbling comforting words to me, in an attempt to alleviate some of my pain, it never helped. Of course, that was a long time ago. They had long given up, and left me to my own wallowing.

The outside world was cold now; it was not cold before. White snow blanketed the outside world and frost coated the windowpanes in thick sheets. Winter was upon the world. Laughter, happiness and love usually filled this time of year, but I felt none of those things in my state. I was alone.

I was dimly aware of my surroundings. What little light there was in the room came from the now sickly looking fireplace, remnants of a once majestic fire in my hearth; its wood and kindling burned out long ago. The dying flames cast flickering shadows across my walls, almost as if it was taking its last breath.

Darkness shrouded the rest of the room, akin to my own state of mind. Bookshelves lined the walls, stacked high with books on the most recent knowledge and theories. Everything from Advanced Sewing Theory: A Reference to the Guide to the Textbook, to The Botanist’s Guide to Botany, Volume I of XII could be found in the shelves, and I had probably read most of them by now.

For the briefest of moments, the dark-purple, silken curtains that covered my windows fluttered in some unseen breeze, revealing the dark, frigid winter night outside my comfortable walls. It was the end of the year, I believed, and, though my hearth was beginning to freeze, it was still quite a few days until Hearth’s Warming Eve.

The fire’s crackling died down for a second, sending the room into a sudden silence. I stared into the flames, glancing away from my book for a moment. They-–the flames—twisted and weaved around, mesmerizing me with their patterns and their warmth lulled me into a deep sleep. I blinked, my eyelids growing heavy with sleep. I could almost make out a mare’s face in the flames, smiling at me, but I knew it was my own imagina…

…The fire popped loudly, sending bright embers scattering across the floor, jolting me from my sleep. I jumped at the noise, nearly knocking my book off the table in surprise. I wearily rubbed my eyes, driving the sleep from my head and turned my attention back towards my reading, almost embarrassed.

The book was a recent book, about magical theory, written just a few years ago. It detailed the finer points of unicorn magic and the biological processes that go on when performing magic. It was an entirely interesting read, though it would have been more interesting if I was not an Earth Pony.

I could not completely remember why exactly I had bought a book on magic, considering I could never use it. Most Earth Ponies would never as much as glance at a book on “fancy unicorn magic.” But, I suppose, as a scholar, I made a habit of accumulating a great deal of reading material, whether or not I would ever use it.

But then, as I gave it greater thought, I realized that I had not bought it…

She was the one who bought…

I gulped tensely, driving the thought from my mind. I did not want to think about her and I engrossed myself in the book, feverishly reading a passage on unicorn auras and their relationship with the unicorn’s environment.

I only managed to read for a few seconds before my mind drifted back to the subject that I longed to ignore. With little warning, memories of my recently departed wife drifted through my mind. Memories of the very unicorn whose passing caused me so much grief consumed my mind once again. Memories of my dear Radiance, the light of my life, who was so suddenly taken from this world.

Oh, how I loved her! The two of us were every bit inseparable since the minute we were married five years earlier. We lived our days out in peace, with little other than thoughts of affection for the each other. Our love was much more than a conventional love, and at times, I felt as if the very powers above coveted our companionship. Things were perfect.

So of course, our lives together ended when death’s cruel hoof ripped my dear Radiance from this living, breathing world without a moment’s notice. My dear wife breathed her last breath, dying in my embrace. Our life together, although brimming with love and wondrous events, was a short and wasted one.

I can still remember how, in her final moments, her mouth turned up in a feeble smile and she reached out for one last, fleeting touch of the stallion she loved so much. Even sickness could not diminish the warmth of her love. I was there for her, though I could not return her smile, for I could not find the same blissful peace she had. I had felt her hoof brush against my face and I had gripped it, holding it for a moment, as if just my sheer force of will, I could pull her back from the brink.

But I could not.

Our eyes connected and I could already begin to see the light fade from her sparkling irises. I held her hoof tighter as I stared at her face, committing what we both knew would be her last moments to memory.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she laid in the bed, and I knew that she was ready to move on. But I was not ready; I did not know if I could make it after she passed. But despite how heavy my heart was, no tears sprang to my eyes. I was past the point of sadness that mere tears could represent.

I leaned in closer to her, kissing her gently on the cheek, savoring the sensation of her breath on my fur. I smiled sadly at her. I did not want her to leave. I could not…

She breathed out, a series of violent coughs racking her body. Spittle flew from her mouth as her limbs shaking. Gingerly, I wiped her snout with a towel and she grunted in thanks. I stroked one of her hooves, merely enjoying what little time we had left.

After a few moments, with a croak that nearly brought tears to my eyes, Radiance began to speak. With her final breath, she asked that I would not mourn her passing, and that I would try to live my life to its extent. She told me not to feel sad, because she felt that she did not waste her time among the living, for the time she spent with me were the best years of her life.

It was the last time I heard her voice.

Silently, I had nodded my head, wholeheartedly agreeing to her dying request.

And with my simple gesture, she breathed out, her body convulsing once more. Her eyelids fluttered and closed for the last time. Succumbing to gravity, her hoof slipped from mine, landing on the sheets with a gentle thump. Her lips were stuck in a satisfied smile. If I had just walked in on the scene, I would have thought she was merely sleeping. However, I knew better.

She was gone. Forever.

It was a quiet and swift passing, contrasting her violent and sudden plunge into sickness.

I remember not moving from the bedside for some time, half-hoping that her eyes would wearily open and I would see her shining violet eyes once again, but I knew that we had said our final goodbyes. Never again would I hear my radiant Radiance speak.

It was only then that I cried.

With her final breath, she had instructed me to not spend time wallowing in sadness, but to move on from her untimely death and find somepony new to spend the rest of my years with. I had agreed to her request.

But I failed her.

I could not find the will to move on. I did not have her strength.

As much as I could try, I could not forget her. Her death tormented my every waking moment and prevented me from falling asleep. And when I finally collapsed from exhaustion, my dreams were rife with my departed wife.

There is a saying: “It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”

It is nothing but lies. I envied those that have never found love, because they would never know the pain of losing your partner, and feel immeasurable sadness their absence left behind.

Radiance was the light that illuminated my world. Without her, I felt empty and incomplete, as if my soul had left with her. Most days I could not find the will to get out of bed, enveloped in its sheets. Yet, on other days, the bed felt large and cold without a second, warm body to sleep beside me and I could not stand to stay in it.

In the first few days following her death, this loss was slowly consuming my mind, slowly killing me, poisoning me from the inside out, and I often wondered if I should let it, so I could join her in the afterlife.

However, I remained alive, if I could even call a life like this alive, and spent my days wallowing in my own desolation. It was some time later that I realized that I had to distract myself from the loneliness, if I was to stay sane. So, with a heavy heart, I turned my attention to my numerous books, with the hope that they would occupy my mind.

And so, here I sat in my study, one cold winter night, reading and rereading every book in my collection in the rapidly dying firelight. It was the only thing I could do to stop from lapsing back into my depression.

It was this thought that my head began to dip, weighed down by the inescapable need to sleep. Somewhere, deep inside my mind, I knew that three days had passed since I last slept, but I did not care. I could not fall asleep. I fought my drowsiness with every inch of my being, because if I knew that if I fell asleep, memories of my dear Radiance would torment my mind.

As I drifted into sleep, I felt the air grow warm and dense, almost as if the house was trying to make me fall asleep. I was quickly losing the battle as my head sunk further and further towards the soft pages of my book. My eyelids grew heavier with every tick of the grandfather clock out in the hall. Every second, each blink of my eye grew harder to open again. I did not want to sleep.

My head nodded again, briefly touching the pages below me. One of my hooves slipped off the table as my muscles began to relax. Then, my eyes closed for what would have been the final time that night had a gentle tapping noise not caught my attention. I blinked and sat up straighter, my ears flicking towards the sound. It was a quiet pounding, as if somepony was knocking on wood.

Off to my left, the tapping started again. I glanced in its direction, now much more alert than I was a few seconds ago. I had not exactly pinpointed the noise’s position the first two times I had heard because I had been half-asleep.

The tapping sound occurred again, harder this time and this time, I realized it was coming from my front door. My eyes drifted over to the large, wooden entryway, watching it apprehensively.

“Hmm…” I muttered, “…must be some visitor at the door…” I gulped, swallowing a lump in my throat. “At least…I hope it’s only a visitor…” The tapping stopped for a second, leaving only the sporadic pop of the fire’s embers as it died down.

But a guest, visiting at this time? It was the dead of night, at least one in the morning. The moon hung high over the horizon, barely illuminating the outside world. Not to mention, it was the middle of winter, a frigid, bone-chilling winter that gripped the countryside. Nopony would have any sort of business on a night such as this.

Soon enough, these thoughts of what was beyond my door began to distress me. What if it was not somepony outside, but instead some vicious creature that had stumbled onto my porch? I could feel my heart beat faster as my mind began to create terrifying visions of what was knocking at my door.

In my youth, I had a vivid imagination, something that had always endeared me to my friends. And now, years later, in the prime of my adult life, I still found myself plagued by my incessant and overreacting imagination.

Dark, four-legged beasts, with wide, saliva-dripping smiles and claws sharp enough to tear through flesh like parchment stalked around my house, trying to gain entry in order to take my life.

Monstrosities with writhing, rippling limbs and blank, featureless faces stood outside the door, merely waiting for me to take a step outside so that they could feast on my bones.

I could not bring myself to go to the door and see what was making the tapping.

So I sat in my chair, frozen in place but rapt with attention, unable to still the beating of my heart. In a hushed voice, I repeated my previous sentence again, as if I was trying to convince myself of what was outside. “It’s just some visitor, just a pony, wanting to be let in from the cold…” My words caught in my throat as a sudden chill gusted through the room. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Just some late night visitor at my door… Just a cold, lonely pony and nothing more…”

If only Radiance could see me now, frightened at mere shadows! She would laugh, tell me to stop being so silly and that there was nothing to be afraid of, and I would believe her.

But she wasn’t here.

Steeling my nerves, I jumped up from my seat. The stranger at the door could very well be withering on my front porch, freezing to death in the frigid night! Hesitating no longer, I called to the knocker, “Sir!” I crept closer to the door. “Or Madame, I beg your forgiveness. The fact is, you caught me napping and your tapping gave me quite the start, and I didn’t immediately get up. Again, I’m sorry…” Here, I reached the door and, after fumbling with the handle for a moment, flung it wide open.

Only, instead of some disheveled, frosty stranger huddling on my porch, there was only inky, black darkness and nothing more.

Curiously, I stuck my head out and peered around the immediate area to determine the source of the knocking, but could find none. There was nothing outside but the wooden floorboards of my porch and a few trees lining the pathway up to my front door. There was neither a hide nor a hair of any pony, donkey or griffon that could have been making the noise. No intelligent or unintelligent beast wandered aimlessly around my yard, hoping to stave off the cold. The night was deathly still.

I did not know how long I stood there, in the silent and motionless darkness, trying to hear or see some sign of life in the blackness. However, the night gave up no secrets, other than a calm breeze that wafted through the air, swaying the tree branches and blowing off tiny amounts of snow.

Then, to the left of me, there was a flutter of wings and a rustling of branches. My head snapped over to look at where the noise came from, but there was nothing. Thoughts of grotesque monsters briefly swam to the forefront of my mind, but I shut them out before I grew too frightened.

I gazed up at the sky. Stars filled the black atmosphere, each one shining down with the radiance of the sun itself. My voice broke the silence with a raspy whisper. “Radiance?” I asked to the heavens, “Radiance, what would you have me do…?” My eyes drifted across the sky, searching, hoping for a reply that I knew would never come.

However, to my eternal surprise, out of the darkness came a barely audible, squawky echo of my own voice, as if answering my despondent question.

“…Radiance…”

And with that echo, the night returned to silence.

I felt myself grow angry. Nature herself saw fit to mock me, to play games with my mind! In the dim light, the gnarled, snow-laden trees seemed to twist and bend to grotesque faces that laughed at my misfortune. The air grew hot and heavy, almost oppressive, in stark contrast to the snow covering the ground. The Mare in the Moon looked down on me from her lofty perch, smiling down in amusement at my pain.

I collapsed against the doorframe, feeling light-headed as my mind continued to whirl around, causing the most unbearable pain. Quickly, I shoved the door open and staggered inside, tripping over the threshold in my rush.

I fell into the foyer rug with a soft thump, sending a cloud of dust spiraling into the air. The door slammed shut behind me, startling me more than my fall did. Groggily, I rolled onto my back, and cursed my overactive imagination. For the last part of the year, it had brought me nothing but heartache and sorrow with the constant reminders of Radiance. And now, this evening, it plagued me even worse than it had before. What a foolish coward I was, believing the fantastical delusions my mind was creating.

I had been cursed since Radiance’s passing. I doubted that things would ever be normal again.

I let loose a soft chuckle and pushed myself off the floor. I ran a hoof over the front of the threadbare suit jacket that I was wearing, brushing off some dirt that came off the rug. Personally, I did not even care that much about my appearance; there was nopony that would see me anyway.

I walked back into my study, and glanced around the small room for what seemed like the first time in ages, noticing the state of disrepair that I had let it fall into. Discarded books and papers littered the floor, gathering around the base of the shelves, as I was often too lazy to even put them back in their places. Months of amassed soot choked the fireplace, the last vestiges of flames slowly smoldering out. There was even a small patch worn into the seat of my chair. I could not remember the last time I had done anything to upkeep my house. I shuddered to think about the rest of the rooms looked like.

I sighed and rubbed my snout in exasperation. Perhaps, a little bit of housecleaning would take my mind off things. Radiance would like to see me doing something other than mourning.

A sharp tapping once again broke me out of my thoughts. I grunted in frustration over the infernal sound that once again made an appearance. This knocking sound, now much louder than before, had caused me so much annoyance this evening, and I still could not find its source.

The tapping started again, this time from outside my window. With anger seething through my body, I nearly galloped over to the window, hoping I could finally catch the mysterious noise.

Fleetingly, thoughts of a dark beast with slavering jaws looming just outside the window, waiting eagerly for a pony like me to snack on ran through my mind. I stopped mid-step. I knew my thoughts of a terrible monster waiting in the darkness beyond were little more than fancy, but that did little to calm the terror that was slowly rising in the pit of my stomach. What if…?

This night seemed to be plaguing my mind like a disease. I had been outside mere minutes before and I had been fine, had I not? There was nothing terrifying stalking through the night. But, what if…?

I growled and stamped my hoof as the tapping came again. “Surely, there is something at my window,” I muttered to myself, hoping that there would be something there. I took a step towards the window. “I have to go check, just to make sure.” I stepped closer to the window. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay, okay, okay… Calm down… There’s nothing there. Nothing… Just, just the wind and nothing more…” With every word, I took another step forward, slowly convincing myself that my fears were imaginary.

As I finished speaking, I made it to the window. With an unsteady hoof, I brushed away the heavy velvet curtains and grasped the latch on the window. My breath fogged up the pane of icy glass. I flung open the window shutters, revealing the inky black night beyond.

For a moment, nothing stirred. The night gave no indication that anything was wrong. I let out a breath I had not realized I had been holding. I was relieved at first, but then disappointed that I had not found the source of the tapping.

But then, with wings spread wide and a gleam in its eyes, a raven as dark as the night outside suddenly appeared from the gloom and flew gracefully into my room. Without so much as an acknowledgement of my presence or its surroundings, the ebony bird, with little hesitation, settled down a bust of the ancient Night Goddess of yore, Luna, which was inlaid just above the doorway.

I felt myself smile. All of a sudden, the seriousness, terror and mystery of the situation melted away. A mere raven had been the cause of the tapping! It was almost anticlimactic.

The bird watched me with its small, beady eyes, its head tilted slightly, as if it was studying me.

I chuckled as the sheer absurdity of the situation began to hit me. This tiny bird had been the source of the pecking the entire night, and now it was just sitting there, watching me, in my own home! It was too comical for even my mind to have thought up! A raven!

Still chuckling, I turned and closed the window so the cold would not seep in too much. With that, I wandered over to the door and the raven perched on top of it. Closer now, its previous expressionless gaze seemed almost disapproving; its beak was pressed was pressed into a thin line and it looked like its eyes were squinting down at me.

Its expression seemed too serious, too intelligent, for such an unintelligent bird. Ravens could not express thought like ponies, or even like more clever birds like falcons or owls. Yet, here it was, watching me with such a stern, calculating manner that I felt that the bird must have some agenda, however crazy that seemed.

I licked my lips and spoke to the bird. “Well, sir raven, you sure gave me a fright. If I had a hat, it would be off to you!” I paused for a moment and collected my thoughts. “It’s funny, really. I’ve been terrified tonight, terrified of you, it seems. Horrified of what would turn out to be an ungainly, comical looking raven!” I bowed deeply, my snout nearly touching the floor, exuberantly sweeping a foreleg in front of me.

I was having fun at the raven’s expense. Speaking to the raven like that, as if it could understand me, was amusing to me. I was practically giddy by now; with the raven’s arrival, came some reprieve from the monotony of the past months. I had something other than books now to distract myself from Radiance.

I straightened up from my curtsy and looked up to the raven who still regarded me with the same countenance as before. His glossy eyes blinked as I began to talk again. “Pray tell, dear raven, why have you been trying to gain entrance to my house all night? What have you been running away from, hmm?” The bird tilted its head the other direction. I nodded, as if I had understood its gesture. “Of course, of course… So, I didn’t quite catch your name, Tell me, you ghastly, grim and ancient raven, what is your name? Is there anything you call yourself?” I grew quiet, my eyes never leaving the raven, which only flipped its head again.

But then, in a croak that felt laden with years of bitterness and emotion, the raven spoke, as if in answer to my trivial, silly question.

“Nevermore.”

My head jerked in surprise. Had I heard correctly? Had this dumb bird, this raven, just answered my question or was my mind once again playing tricks on me?

Nevermore? What sort of response was “Nevermore”? Never had I heard of any bird, or any other creature for that matter, that was called Nevermore. Matter of fact, I had never heard of any bird actually talking…

But now, perched just above my chamber door, was a bird that called itself Nevermore. Or, at the very least, it was a word that bore meaning for the raven.

I waited, apprehensively, to see if the bird would say anything else, just to convince myself I had not imagined it.

And yet, as if just to infuriate me, the raven uttered not a chirp. It blinked, its gaze never once leaving me.

As we sat there, staring at each other, each waiting for the other to make a move, I felt the heavy veil of depression begin to fall over my mind once again.

Why did it even matter? Why did I have so much interest in this bird? There was no doubt in my mind that it would soon abandon me, and fly from my life, just as countless others had before. I knew my first companion in many lonely nights would leave me, flitting to some other place on instinct; just as all other animals were prone to do.

My dear, dear Radiance left me too…

What cruel twist of fate had torn us apart before her time? We had not been ready—I had not been ready. Never again would I see her smile, or her gaze into those deep eyes, or find her warm presence next to mine when I woke up in the morning in my cold, cold bed.

I choked down a sob and shook my head vigorously, pushing away those thoughts. I glance back up at the bird, whose gaze had never wavered. “Surely,” I said in the barest hints of a whisper, “Surely, with the dawn’s rising light, you will leave me too, won’t you? You will take flight on a whim, just as all of my hopes and dreams have flown before.

Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

I blinked in astonishment. The bird had spoken; and, once again, it had responded as if in answer to me. It was unnerving, at best, that it spoke at all, never mind that its replies were said so aptly spoken. Why was this one word so important to the bird?

“Doubtless,” I thought aloud, “what this raven says had no meaning behind it. He must have learned the word from some past owner whose frequent use of it imprinted itself in the poor bird’s mind, until it was all it knew. I’m sure that this one word is all it knows—this “nevermore.””

I hoped to myself, as I lapsed back into a brooding silence, that I was correct in my thinking. If the raven knew the meaning behind its words, I would be far more intimidated by it than I was now. It was much less disturbing to think that the bird did not know what it said, rather than thinking that it understood me and knew what it meant.

Nevertheless, this raven intrigued me. It was of above average intelligence for any such bird and never had I heard any sort of avian so much as hold a conversation with any creature other than its own kind. I have only ever heard the birds whistling their cheerful tunes while they built their nests or fed their young. I would never had entertained the notion that birds could ever speak. But now, this living, breathing and talking raven inside my house was definitive proof that such things could be. It was a fascinating turn of events.

I had to know more about this ungainly bird perched on the sculpture above my door. Trotting over to my desk, feeling the raven’s eyes on me the entire time, I grasped my chair and slowly pushed it over to the bird and door, intent on finding more about this raven called Nevermore.

With an indulgent sigh, I collapsed into the chair and, after a slight readjustment of my position, met the piercing gaze of Nevermore who merely ruffled one of his wings.

Twice now, it had said “nevermore,” once, seemingly in response to me asking its name and the other as if to reassure me that it was not planning to leave me. What relevance, if any, did this word really mean?

I sat there in silence, my mind fully occupied, with only the gaunt bird for company. I fixed the raven with a thoughtful stare, and it in turn pierced me with a fiery glare so sudden and violent that I glanced away looked at the floor.

Nevermore indeed! Nevermore would I discover why the bird could speak. Nevermore would I be able to find out where it came from. Nevermore would I see my wife again. Nevermore could I find joy in life. Never, never, nevermore.

Would this raven forevermore perch in my house? Or, would it leave me, despite its reassurances that it would not? Was it to be evermore that I would be haunted my memories of my sweet Radiance? Would I be alone forevermore?

Oh, my dear Radiance… For so many months, I longed to feel your loving touch that has grown cold, and to hear your honeyed voice than has since fallen mute. I remembered days I would wake up and gaze deep into your stunning emerald eyes and run a hoof through your luscious mane that looked perfect on you, even though you had just woken up, only to realize that there was no body lying next to me; I still have trouble realizing that you moved on to a higher place… My radiant Radiance… I missed you…

But…

I felt the air grow thick and my eyes grow heavy as these unwanted thoughts permeated my mind. My vision flickered as I reclined further into the chair. My previous musings on the raven were quickly forgotten as my eyes slowly began to close and my thoughts about my wife began to die down as I drifted off to sleep.

“My Radiance…” I mumbled as I slipped from the waking world, the night’s excitement finally catching up to me, “Radiance, I’ll always love you…”

“…Nevermore...”

I flinched at the unexpected voice, my mind suddenly awake once again. The voice… The voice was not the shrill chirp of the raven; it was considerably softer, almost as if somepony had whispered it in my ear.

It almost sounded like…

“Radiance!?” I called out to the mostly empty room. “Radiance, was that you?”

I leapt up from me chair and hurriedly glanced around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mare. I was certain that it was her voice. I knew my wife’s voice and I definitely heard it.

I looked at the raven, who only watched on with a slight hint of bemusement.

“Radiance?” I asked again, partly in hope and partly in an ever-growing defeat. Radiance was not here… She was dead… But, it was her… I heard her… I heard…

There! There was the unmistakable sound of hoofsteps on the timber floors. I turned towards the noise and saw the tip of a tawny colored tail disappear through the doorway of the kitchen! It was Radiance’s tail.

With a small spring in my step, I ran into the kitchen, the fact that my wife was dead never once crossing my mind. All that mattered to me in that moment was that I had seen my wife. She was here.

“Radiance?” I called in a spirited voice. “Why are you hiding? It’s only me...” I rounded the corner and came into the kitchen, only to see nothing but grimy countertops and a pile of dishes. “Radiance?” I asked again, slightly louder and much more desperate. But she failed to appear. The mare who I had just seen had vanished from the room.

“…Dear…?” I called out once more and strained to hear so reply from the mare I so longed to see. I listened for a few minutes, but heard nothing but my own ragged breathing. Radiance had left my life once again.

I bit my lip and tried to blink back the tears I felt forming in my eyes. “…Where are you…?” I whimpered and sank to the floor in despair.

What had I been thinking?

She had died. I was there.

She would never…

I would never see her again…

My mind had been playing tricks on me again, just as it had been all night. That raven’s tapping had driven my mind wild. That damned, insufferable, talking raven had caused this with all its talk of “nevermore”!

I felt an intense loathing for the bird well up in the pit of my stomach. The raven! I exited the kitchen in a whirlwind of sudden fury and marched back to the raven and its watchful eyes.

The raven!

If it were not for this bird, I would have spent my evening reading, perfectly content with my depression. If not for that tapping, my mind would have been at ease. If it were not for that “nevermore,” everything would be fine. The bird caused this.

I gazed at the bird, which was still attentively sitting on my doorway. “Raven!” I cried to the bird. “I don’t know if the Goddess herself or the very heavens above sent you, but I don’t want you to leave! Leave! Leave and take my troubles with you! Leave and take my memories of Radiance from me. Take my excruciating sadness away and leave me in peace!” I jumped as high as I could, trying to frighten the bird away.

However, the raven only looked at me, as if amused by my vain rant.

And then, it spoke its one word once again.

“Nevermore.”

“Oh leave me alone, you foul fowl! Nevermore indeed. Nevermore do I want to see your dark plumage on my door! Leave me and leave this house and return to the moonlit night you came in from!” I bellowed at the bird that I had grown to despise. “You are a thing of evil! Whatever powers made you come here, I beg you to return to them!

And the bird said, “Nevermore.”

“No nevermore!” I shouted. “Damn you, you prophet, damn your nevermore! You have been the source of my aggravation all night! Nevermore your name, nevermore you’ll leave me, nevermore you won’t leave me. Tell me, tell me, since you seem to know everything, tell me if I’ll ever see Radiance again?! Will I ever, whether here in the land of flesh and blood or in the distant heavens, will I ever see and hold my wife once more? Will we reunite outside of this life? Tell me, tell me, you unsightly raven!?”

Oh, how I hoped, how I prayed, that this raven would say something different. Surely, this vile bird must know if Radiance and I were to be together after I left this world behind; it seemed to have an answer ready to whatever I said that night. In my mind’s eye, I could see the bird open its beak and tell me that we would see each other again.

But that did not happen. The bird said, “Nevermore.”

I shrieked at its reply and leapt in the air, reaching wildly for the raven, to rip down from its perch and strangle it. How was it possible that I would not see Radiance in the afterlife? How were we not to be together? If the bird was right, and I was to be alone forever, even in death, then I did not know what I would do.

“Nevermore, you fiend! Let that word be our last!” I yelled at the raven, who still sat there, motionless. “Return to the night air you flew in on! Fly away and don’t leave even a feather as a reminder of your time here!”

I jumped for the raven again, but fell into the chair I had dragged over before and knocked it on its side. “You demon, leave me to my loneliness and take your claws off the bust above my door! Take your lying beak out from my heart and fly away! By the dear Goddess, leave your perch and leave my life!”

The raven said, “Nevermore.”

And with that repeated word, I felt my soul break. My knees buckled and I fell to the floor. I let out an unearthly wail and felt hot tears begin to flow freely from my eyes, though for what or whom I wept, I had no idea.

I knew, somewhere deep in my mind, that this raven would be a burden I would have to bear forevermore. It would never leave me alone; it would never cease with its relentless “nevermore.” I would never be at peace again until my dying day, and even then, I knew now that I was never to see Radiance again in the afterlife.

My body quivered and I glanced up at the raven. Its demonic eyes looked down at my prone form. Its gaze pierced into my very soul, paralyzing me, and trapping me on the floor.

From my position on the floor, I could see how the dying firelight threw the beast’s shadow onto the wall beside him; it looked demonic. And what else could this raven be than a demon sent solely to torture me? The bird was certainly no angel.

I choked back another sob and curled into a ball. The bird almost seemed to smirk as it looked down at me, as if satisfied with what was happening.

I shivered again and tried to blink back my tears. How I wished for the raven to leave me and take all of my pain with it. Nevermore did I want to feel this burning depression that lay in my stomach like a stone. If my memories of Radiance would plague me for the rest of my life, I did not want them anymore. I did not want this. My memories of my time with Radiance were constant reminders of everything I had lost when I lost her.

I felt something within me break again as the raven and I sat there. That raven, who never flitted, never moved, from that pallid bust of Luna just above my chamber door, was still fixating me with its fiery stare that burned my core.

I did not know how long we sat there, and I did not think I cared. There was only the raven and I. The raven and its shadow trapped me on the floor. I felt broken. Defeated. My soul was shattered beyond repair.

My body twitched and went numb.

Everything went black.

Something wet and warm trickled down my chest.

I felt the room grow cold. The windows must have blown open.

I felt myself slipping away. I could no longer feel the wood floors I laid on.

But I could still feel his stare. I knew the raven was still there, watching.

I felt my mind burning as synapses snapped and my emotions began to melt away, leaving me an empty shell. My pain left me.

…Radiance…

“…Radiance…” I whispered with the last remnants of my energy.

I thought I heard her say something back.

The raven squawked something, but it sounded far away. Distant. Muffled.

And my body, lying there on the floor, never moved from its spot.

I could still feel the raven’s gaze.

Then, light returned to me, and I felt complete again. Warmth flooded back into my body.

“…Radiance.” I smiled for the first time in months.

“I’m here, dear.”

I could no longer sense the raven’s presence.

The bird was wrong. I was free, at last, with my love.

Forevermore.