This is a game and everyone can play!

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Deep within Ruritania, in a pristine mountain range where there are no roads and no villages, a castle looms over the trees. It is a place of mystery, of magic, and of potential. Its secrets are many and they are as wondrous as they are terrible. Its dangers are of the heart and soul.

My true form has been lost to memory and time. The tallest tower is my domain and from here I watch as poor unfortunates stumble near, their need so great that their hearts act as a needle in a compass pointing to the castle. I bend my will to sending them onward - I’ve no need for company or pleas; I am not alone. After all, I have you, my online friends. You play my ravens. You are my eyes and ears, my hands and my magic. You are wonder made flesh.

Today, we have new visitors: a pair of children. Their eyes glint with fear and determination. Something about them seems familiar - it calls to me. I will allow them to enter the castle and find what it is that draws my interest. You, my ravens, will help me.

The rules:

1. I do not leave my tower so rely upon my ravens for information. When I ask a question, please answer it. Usually, but not always, I’ll say anyone can answer.

2. You are not the bestial ravens which live in the rest of the world - you belong to the castle, and the castle is made of potential. If you don’t know the answer to a question, make it up.

3. We do not know what dangers might reveal themselves and time is precious. Keep your answers short.

4. The castle fights back against disruptions. If your answer is disruptive, I’m allowed to delete it.

5. The swiftest raven will always have my ear and the first answer given to a question will be accepted as reality. I’ll “like” it. Sometimes, other answers might also be accepted - I’ll “like” those as well.

6. Please be wary of your own cacophony. Each raven should not post more than one comment after each question I ask.

7. More ravens may come to my aid or merely watch. If you wish to watch for now, please use the phrase, “Dark eyes glint from above.” as your first comment.

I’ll make the first comment.

The two girls seem to be near the same age, their limbs long and their movements just clumsy enough that it’s clear this growth spurt was recent, though they are tall enough that this could be their last growth before adulthood. Their brown skin is darker and chapped at the cheeks, as though they have travelled in persistent cold and wind. The shapes of their faces suggest they aren’t related.

They are dressed in many dull, practical layers, with packs which may have bulged once but which are looking decidedly lean now. One girl, broad as a champion wrestler and with a shaved head, forges ahead of the other, grim determination in every stride. The other, just as stout as her companion but with a mane of rich black hair coiled up, seems almost to float, so light is she on her feet.

The stray ray of sunshine pierces the clouds and her hair glints. I see that she is wearing a hair comb, the shiny off-white of polished bone and ornately carved with the shape of a hound. When I see it, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of loss.

Before I can puzzle out why I feel this way, something startles the children. What is it? Anyone should answer.

The crack of a tree being felled snaps their attention away from the tower.

Dark eyes glint from above.

Dark eyes glint from above.

Dark eyes glint from above