Dazzling light filled the chamber, not that any would ever call it the brilliance of a midday sun. No, this was quite the opposite. The light of a hundred full moons which matched the rhythmic and chiming strikes of a smiths’ hammers falling on anvils. Not hammers of steal or anvils of iron. No, both were made of silver polished to a high shine engraved with spells which channeled the moonlight through each. And with each stroke of the hammer, the smiths of this forge honed the dreams of the mortals below in solemnity.

The priest quelled, his lips twitching as he drew back from me a half step. “One does not simply request to see the Raven God.”

Ashre dodged a low flying book which continued unaware past her and into Khanan’s waiting hand. There is lay the pages fluttering open as Khanan turned his attention to the book and toward the doorway. In his other hand was a similar, if heavier, tome. “Set the tray on the desk. I’ll eat later” Ashre sniffed. He didn’t bother to look at her or what she carried.