Naesala opened his eyes, saw the daylight coming through his window. Sitting up, he realized it was morning. It was morning. Beautiful, beautiful morning - most beautiful that he was alive to see it. It had been fifty-two days since the Death Angel began, and if the pattern was as consistent that day as it had been, fifty-two ravens would die in their sleep that morning.

Naesala was not one of the fifty-two. Thank goddess he'd been spared for another day.

But who knew when this plague would end? When would the Death Angel's thirst be quenched? Would it continue forever until the entire Kilvan race was no more?

And WHY was Kilvas the only race affected?

His heart thumped hard against his chest as he dressed himself and floated down from his loft. He hated it. He hated this time, waking up every morning in fear, wondering if he would live to see the next day, or the day after that. He could hardly force himself to sleep at night, wondering if he was experiencing his final moments. Each day, more and more ravens died. The Death Angel picked indiscriminately. Naesala hated to go out into the streets - he couldn't stand listening to the wailing and weeping, watching more bodies being buried, seeing other ravens attempt to take their own lives before the plague took them.

Naesala shuddered as he made his way to the kitchen. "Nealuchi?" he called. "Are you here?"

His heart beat so loudly he could hardly hear beyond it. Swallowing and taking several deep breaths, Naesala tried to calm himself. Nealuchi was a precious old bird - ever since Naesala was a baby raven dropped off at his front door, Nealuchi had cared for him and raised him well. Naesala never knew his parents, but he figured if they just left him crying, without even a blanket to keep warm, they couldn't have cared about him very much.

Nealuchi had raised Naesala to be strong, much stronger than the average raven. Perhaps it was because Nealuchi was among the oldest of the entire raven tribe and had endured a fair portion of his life in Begnion slavery. The old man told stories about the strict rules, the mocking laughs of his beorc masters, the frequent beatings, the executions of friends who didn't please their owners. Nealuchi had fought hard to free himself from such misery - perhaps he wanted to be sure Naesala would never endure the same fate.

Now every morning Naesala called out for his old caretaker at breakfast. He didn't know what he'd do if Nealuchi died in the night - a distinct possibility. Feeling nauseated at Nealuchi not responding quickly, Naesala called louder: "Nealuchi!"

"I'm alright, Nestling," Nealuchi's crackled voice floated through the air. Naesala turned around and sighed in relief as the old man approached him and touched his hand, adding, "I checked on you this morning...as I do every morning...you were peacefully sleeping, breathing gently. I thank the goddess everyday you're still with me."

"As do I, Nealuchi," Naesala smiled, then rummaged through the cabinets for food. Something light...he never could eat too much these days. His stomach was always queasy.

"...The last of the family next door passed on," Nealuchi mentioned softly. "They were always wonderful neighbors. Dashing young couple, with five adorable children...it's too bad..."

Naesala closed his eyes, his throat tightening. The mother had been the last surviving one. After watching her husband and all five children die, she'd hugged Naesala tightly the day before, sobbing that she might be gone the next day. Her prediction was horrifyingly correct.

"And...Kerrigan is...also gone..." Nealuchi painfully continued.

"What?" Naesala whirled around. "That's...that's not true. Please, Nealuchi..."

Kerrigan had been Naesala's best friend since childhood. They learned to fly together, played games together, planned their futures together. They joked about Naesala becoming king of Kilvas one day, since he was eighty-third in line to receive the throne and anything was possible. Once Naesala became king, he would hire Kerrigan to be his right-hand man. They'd have a blast, being rich, eating whatever they wanted, throwing parties, hanging out with the other laguz kings.

Naesala sat down on a nearby chair and buried his face in his hands. Kerrigan was gone. There was no future with his best friend. Everything they ever planned for, ever joked about, vanished. Kerrigan's offbeat sense of humor, his supporting arm, his quirky personality would never live again.

His best friend was dead.

Not only that, but their "jokes" about Naesala becoming king of Kilvas weren't so far-fetched now. Naesala was now fifty-eighth in line to receive the throne of Kilvas, and who knew how many more of the successors would die before him. What would transpire if the worst happened and Naesala really did have to become king? Kerrigan wouldn't be there to help him.

Oh, goddess, please don't let me be king. I don't have any of the skills to rule a country. I am completely unready. I don't even want to be king. Ever. Goddess, please...

"And...among the fifty-two that passed today..." Nealuchi cautiously pressed on, "At least ten were before you in succession to the throne of Kilvas. That makes you...forty-eighth in line now, at least?"

"Nealuchi, please, I can't take any more of this!" Naesala cried, tears stinging his eyes. "Are we doomed? Is Kilvas completely doomed to die? Hundreds have died already. Nobody knows when their time is coming. Will I die tomorrow? Will you?"

Bursting with emotion and panic, Naesala jumped up from the chair and began to storm towards Nealuchi. "Is this the end? Are we living in the end times for us? By this time next year, there may not even be a raven tribe! Why is this happening? The terror is so thick that we practically breathe it. Our weak nation has been made even more hopeless. Is this it? Is this the fate of the ravens? Is this MY fate, to never be happy again? To perish in fear? To live only to die? Is this tormenting hell the last memory this nation will ever have?"

"Nestling!" Nealuchi shouted, grabbing Naesala by the shoulders. He paused as Naesala shakily tried to control his breathing. "This is a heartbreaking time for our tribe, Nestling. Nobody knows why this is happening. Ravens have fled to other lands, to see if it's simply the island itself that's cursed, only to find out it's the people. We are all scared. But we must use this time to live our lives in the best way possible, to love deeply, to make amends to everyone we've ever hurt. We must care for the mourning, and when alone we must give praise for every day we are alive. At this point none of us can afford to take life for granted."

"Kilvas has lived in nothing but the darkest of times," Naesala whispered, trembling. "What peace we have experienced has been short-lived. Will we ever see the light?"

"We are the light, Nestling," Nealuchi squeezed the young man's shoulder. "Living boldly and lovingly during the worst of circumstances sets us apart and gives other nations hope as they see us. That is our role at this point."

Naesala narrowed his eyes at the old man. "I thought you always said we should fight back and never let our nation be tormented again."

"That is true for forces we can control," Nealuchi stated. "If Begnion arrived at our shores, by all means we shouldn't let them take us captive. But how do you suppose we can fight against the Death Angel? We know not where, why, or for who she comes. Since we can do nothing about it, we must employ different tactics. We must live with no regret."

Naesala didn't understand how Nealuchi could be so calm while the rest of their tribe was so frightened. Live life boldly? Naesala just wanted to crawl under his bed covers and wake up when it was all over, pretend like it was just a dream. Still, the love and peace in Nealuchi's eyes somehow managed to calm him down some. Sighing, Naesala allowed the old man to wrap his frail arms around his torso.

"I love you, Nestling," Nealuchi whispered. "Always have, always will. You'll always be my Nestling."

"You're pretty cool too, old man," Naesala mumbled, giving a small smile.

"I suppose that's your hip young speech for 'I love you too, Nealuchi,'" Nealuchi grinned, his eyes twinkling.

"Something like that," Naesala said, then paused in thought. "Nealuchi...what happens if...if everyone in succession to the throne dies and it belongs to me? What if I have to become king? I can't lead a nation. I don't even pay attention to politics."

"Come now, Nestling," Nealuchi shrugged nonchalantly. "You may be forty-eighth in line for the throne, but that is still a long ways away. I'd say the chances of you becoming king are next to impossible. Don't worry about it."

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