Chapter Text
It began with a raven.
And a drunken bout of skinny dipping, but Colin wasn’t about to put that on his travel blog.
No, it began with a raven. Just like the heroes in the sagas of old, Colin Bridgerton had found himself out under the stars hours away from any sign of civilization. His guide had told him about the beauty of the Icelandic wilderness and, heartbroken and restless, Colin jumped at the opportunity to challenge himself, to disappear, and to scream at the sky until his throat bled.
His guide, however, had insisted on accompanying. So, though the trek from town had been challenging and the darkness and isolation permitted him to pretend he had disappeared from the world, Colin chose to bypass the screaming in place for some very strong, very homebrewed alcohol, instead.
There had, after the third hour of drinking, been some screaming, anyway.
Colin was nearly a year into his world tour. It wasn’t his first trip abroad—hell, over the past ten years, he had travelled constantly for work—but it was unlike any trip he’d ever taken before. So much had changed. He no longer worked as a travel blogger, no longer had the wherewithal to visit home for birthdays or holidays, no longer found joy in the adventure. Every day he spent circling the globe ached. Every second, every step he took, reminded him of what he had left behind.
It reminded him of the fact that he had been left behind.
Colin had been prepared to settle down. He had quit his job to make a home in London, had started looking at small houses instead of single bedroom flats, had bought the ring, even asked the question but, one month into his engagement to Marina Thompson, it had all fallen apart.
She was cheating on him. Not very subtly, either.
Penelope Featherington, Colin’s best friend and Marina’s own cousin, had pulled him aside during a family dinner to tell him the truth. She had pictures, screenshots of texts she’d sent to herself from Marina’s phone. It was undeniable.
Colin stormed out of that dinner and never looked back.
He couldn’t stand to be in London. He couldn’t stomach the pity from his mother, the disappointment from his eldest brother, the way the rest of his family walked on eggshells around him. They treated him like he was liable to shatter at any moment; the fact that they were right only made him feel more pathetic.
So, he left.
And he hated every second of it.
Colin had always adored travel. He loved the thrill of seeing new places, meeting new people. No matter what anyone thought, he felt most like himself when he was surrounded by people who didn’t even know his name. He enjoyed charming the locals into letting him see behind the tourism-based curtain, he loved reinventing himself, challenging himself, to find the best way out of any situation. He loved travel for the perspective it gave him, not just on the world, but on himself. Leaving after Marina’s deception was revealed was the first time he had ever truly used travel to run away.
It made him sick to his stomach to think that she had ruined even that.
Or, perhaps that was the alcohol.
As Colin stumbled away from the nauseating smoke of their campfire—his guide already passed out in the tent—he stared up at the stars and tried not to empty the contents of his stomach in the middle of this gorgeous scenery. He couldn’t see much, in truth, in the flickering shadows of the fire, but in the daytime they had happened upon an expansive field of stone speckled with mineral pools. The low roar of a distant waterfall kept the night from settling into total silence, but it was peaceful, nonetheless. It was the sky, though, that truly had him captivated. So far from any artificial light, the sky was alight with thousands upon thousands of stars, interrupted only by the flickering ephemeral light of the aurora borealis.
Colin gazed, vision swimming with drink and tears alike, open-mouthed upon the night sky. He had never seen anything so breathtaking. He had never felt so alone.
With shaking hands, Colin pulled his cellphone from his pocket. He fumbled slightly as he clicked on the first name on his recent calls list and lifted the phone to his ear. It beeped, once, and he glanced down to see he had no signal. Rubbing his eyes dry on this sleeve, Colin typed out a quick message instead, praying it would go through as soon as they got close enough to town the next day. He didn’t have the capacity of mind to overthink the question.
Colin: Does anyone even miss me?
It was an unfair thing to ask. He knew that, of course, his mother missed him and probably most if not all of his siblings, as well, no matter the jokes they made in the group chat. Penelope—the recipient of his 3am text—told him she missed him every time he called, but Colin suspected that was more likely a habit of good manners, just like how he lied every time she asked if he was enjoying the trip. They both knew it wasn’t true, but it was polite to keep up the act, anyway.
Colin stared down at the text, the little bar showing it was trying to send in spite of the lack of signal, and kicked himself for being so pathetic. Penelope shouldn’t have to deal with him and his self-pity. She had already done so much for him. Ever since she bore the brunt of his poor reaction to Marina’s affair, Penelope had reached out to him. Over and over again, she checked in even when he pushed her away. She had been his best friend for nearly two decades, but her constant support over the last year was more than Colin had ever expected. If it hadn’t been for Penelope, he had no idea where he would be.
Well, he didn’t technically know where he was in that moment, anyway, but at least he could appreciate the stars. At least he didn’t want to find that waterfall and throw himself off of it anymore.
Colin: Sorry. That’s a stupid question, huh? Ignore me lol
Colin sent the second text and hoped she wouldn’t be too worried. Squinting back up at the sky, he lifted his phone and snapped a few pictures. They didn’t capture the stars well, but the northern lights looked beautiful. He sent those to struggle along after the texts, hoping they would distract her from how pathetic his earlier messages sounded. This wasn’t the first time he’d drunk-texted or called her crying or moaning about how he’d never find love; each time Penelope had been patient with him, quietly listening and reminding him of all of the love and support he had from his friends and family, how he was barely thirty and still had his whole life ahead of him. He was grateful, of course, but each time the sun rose and his head cleared, Colin couldn’t help but wonder if that time would be the last. How many texts or calls would it take for Penelope to grow tired of talking him down from the proverbial ledge? How long until she realized he wasn’t worth her time? That he was too much to deal with?
Trying not to let himself fall down that particular rabbit hole, Colin lifted his phone to the sky again. His attention was caught by a dark shadow blotting out the stars. Denser than a cloud, larger than a bat, Colin watched as the large black mass swept over him then landed not ten paces away.
A massive raven sat perched on a nearby boulder, eyes glinting in the darkness as it stared directly at him.
Colin could do nothing but gape back at the bird. He had seen ravens before, of course, but never one that large and never at night. Birds were notoriously diurnal, weren’t they? Not this one, apparently. Cloaked by the night sky, this raven was very much awake and alert, its obsidian gaze holding Colin frozen where he stood.
With a sudden rustling of feathers, the raven took flight.
Colin’s head snapped up, eyes locked on the bird as it circled once directly overhead. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the surreal scenery, or maybe it was simply another form of running away but, when the raven straightened out and began to fly low over the field, Colin followed.
He had to keep a light jog, stumbling every now and then over the looser stones, to keep up with the raven’s speed. After about ten minutes of following the animal blindly through the night, the raven came to land on the opposite side of a large mineral pool. Colin slowed to a stop. His head spun slightly from the disorienting darkness and the haze of alcohol, but otherwise he felt eerily calm. Standing opposite the raven, Colin waited. He had no idea what for, but there seemed to be something in the animal’s eyes that compelled him to stay.
The raven, however, was apparently less patient.
With a loud croaking, it swept towards him, talons skimming the water’s surface and spraying him in warm droplets as it rose up over his head. Colin ducked. He shielded his face instinctively, but the sharp sting of talons never came. Instead, he felt a cold rush of air as the bird swept back over him and landed on the far perch once more.
He couldn’t say what prompted him to move but, as Colin stared back at the raven’s piercing stare, he suddenly began to undress. Shivering in the cool night air, Colin stripped off every piece of clothing and moved forward, stepping into the warm water of the mineral pool.
The raven let out another scratchy croak as Colin sunk up to his waist in the water. It smelled earthy and was opaque and glistening like oil, but Colin couldn’t seem to reason with himself to get out. He was held, fixed in a trance, by the shining eyes of the bird in front of him. His gaze followed it up into the sky as it took off once more, circling around and around above his head.
The movement made him dizzy and Colin let himself sink onto his back, floating on the water. Though the raven flew up higher and higher, its shadow seemed to grow filling Colin’s vision until nothing remained but darkness.
******
In the darkness came a voice. Croaking, ragged, parts in a language Colin did not know. Through a cacophony of rustling feathers and snapping beaks, words drifted through.
“May the waters of the berdreyminn guide you. The gods are not infallible. Take this knowledge. Right one wrong. Be at peace.”
The darkness gave way to the waving colors of the aurora borealis. Blues and greens and the lightest of pinks, spinning, blurring their way across Colin’s vision. A thick scent of earth filled his senses, coating his tongue and clogging his throat and—
Colin woke with a start, immediately rolling over and vomiting acidic bile onto the cold stones beside him.
Laughter cut through the sound of his retching and, once his stomach had settled, Colin turned to see his guide standing by the pile of burnt logs chuckling at his obvious distress.
Colin stood slowly, a blinding headache adding to his disorientation. He was back at camp, fully dressed and entirely dry. The night before was hazy and he could have sworn he had fallen asleep floating on the water, but perhaps he was mistaken. Maybe the entire night had been a dream.
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Colin opened his text thread with Penelope and cringed. The messages from before sat there, little red exclamation points prompting him to try and send them again. Tapping on the first two messages, Colin deleted them, grateful he had the chance to save face in the light of day. He left the pictures, though, adding a starry-eyed emoji for good measure, and tried to send them again.
“It’s about an hour hike to the falls.” Colin’s guide broke through the silence. The man had already packed up the few supplies they’d taken out for their camp and was watching Colin with a thinly veiled smirk. “If you’re up to it?”
Colin fought the knee-jerk reaction to roll his eyes and took stock of his body instead. Strange glimpses of colors and shadows flickered through his mind’s eye, pulsing in time with the headache that seemed to worsen with every passing second. His stomach growled and then churned in response and he was unsure if he wanted to eat a massive breakfast or bend over and get sick again. One would likely lead to the other. Otherwise, though, he felt rejuvenated. His legs weren’t sore from their hike up, his shoulders weren’t stiff from the heavy packs they had carried the entire way. Was he up for the hike to the falls? Probably. But, after the emotionally taxing night before and the growing pain that spiked behind his eyes as the sun began to rise, Colin wanted nothing more than get back to his hotel and sleep the day away.
“Another time, I think,” Colin replied, ignoring his guide’s snort. He’d take the subtle ribbing if it meant getting to curl up in a dark room a few hours sooner. Growing up with seven siblings had given him a thick skin, after all.
Their hike back to town was even more challenging than the one out. Though Colin’s body felt refreshed, his headache quickly worsened to a migraine and the occasional flashes of light across his vision made navigating the rocky landscape difficult. Thankfully, though, they managed to make it back in one piece and, after an early dinner with his guide, Colin was free to slip back into his hotel room a few hours before nightfall.
In a painful blur, Colin showered, threw on a pair of clean boxers, chugged two bottles of water, and burrowed into bed. Right as he slipped into unconsciousness, he wondered if it was a dream or if he could truly hear the sound of rustling feathers brushing against the balcony doors.