You find your small, isolated village suddenly under attack. Can the powerful hero Raven save the day, or is all hope lost? Raven, AKA Daniela Ortéga, is one of my favorite characters in the Olympians universe– she’s actually the mother of the main character in the novel I’m working on! So, you guys will definitely get to see more of her, one way or another. But for now, buckle up and enjoy the ride.
Raven, Vol. 1
The acrid smoke burns your lungs as you sprint for cover, small explosions blasting you with fragments of rock and sand. Your ears ring from the concussive blasts, but you can still make out the sharp rattle of guns firing. You knew guns were loud, but you had no idea they were this loud. They weren’t this loud in the movies.
Finally, you find some shelter. You’re not sure which of your neighbors’ house it is; you’ve lost track of where everything is in the fray. But it doesn’t matter. It’s cover. It’s protection. At least, you hope it is.
You try to steady your racing heart, try to catch your breath. But it’s no use. Panic has gripped you like a vice. It’s all you can do not to curl up and cry. The war wasn’t supposed to come here. Your village is too remote, too far from the fighting. Why would anyone want to fight here? There’s nothing of use to anyone. Just some goats and chickens and a few dozen people. There’s nothing anyone would want.
Over the sharp, repetitive cracks of gunfire and through the ringing in your ears, you hear a whistling sound getting louder and louder. You’ve heard the stories about that sound—mortar fire. Death from above. The house next to the one you’ve hunkered down in explodes; the force of it blasting away most of the house you’re in and forcing the air from your lungs as you’re pelted with pieces of plaster and wood.
You curl up tighter and say a prayer. You’ve resigned yourself to the fact that you probably won’t make it out of this alive. There’s no one here to help you, nothing to save you from this situation.
That’s when you see her slowly descending from the sky like an avenging goddess, clad in her jet-black armor. Raven. You’ve heard tales of her before and seen her on your television. But those always seemed like stories. Fiction. You never actually believed half of what Raven could do was true. There was no arguing that Muts existed; you’d seen them with your own two eyes. You didn’t believe Raven could be as powerful as they said, though. No one could have that power.
But here she was, descending from the sky. All the invaders turn their attention towards her, firing their guns and their explosives at her. To your amazement, she just casually reaches out, stopping everything in its path.
“Everything will be okay. I’ve got you,” you hear inside your head. How could everything be okay, though? You’ve just watched your village get destroyed, your friends killed. “Yes, but you’re still alive. And I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”
Could Raven hear what you were thinking? Was she the voice you heard in your head? You’ve heard the stories, but why should you have believed them?
“There’s a river two kilometers to the southwest of the village. When I say so, I want you all to run there as fast as you can. I’ll cover you all.”
You know the river well—you grew up washing in it, cleaning your clothes in it, fishing in it. What safety is a river supposed to bring you right now, though? It’s too deep to walk across, and too wide to swim in a short time.
“It’ll be okay. Trust me.”
What other choice do you have but to trust her? She’s holding back a small army’s worth of bullets and explosives with nothing but her mind. Your only other alternative is to stay curled up where you are and pray that you somehow make it through, unlikely as that would be.
“Okay, everyone. On three. One… Two… THREE!”
You run faster than you’ve ever run in your life. You take a glance back over your shoulder. Raven stands there, right at the edge of your village, her hands outstretched. Bullets shatter against an invisible wall she’s erected with her mind, her face hard with a stern concentration.
Your village quickly fades from view as you run down the hill towards the river. Your sides and feet are aching, but you need to keep running. You need to ignore the thousand tiny cuts and bruises from the explosions. You’ll have time to feel later. Right now, you need to run. Right now, you need to survive.
You find several of your friends and neighbors once you reach the riverbanks. They’re all as breathless as you are. All as terrified as you.
“What are we to do now?” one asks you.
“Where can we go?” asks another.
They all look to you for guidance. But you have nothing to say. No answers. You’re just as lost as they are, just as hopeless. You open your mouth, trying to find something to say to ease their fears. Anything. But no words will come to you.
The sound of gunfire and bombs seems so much more distant now. Now that you’re not standing in the thick of it. But you still feel the weight of it. The sorrow. As you look around, it hits you how few of you there are standing around. Not even an hour ago, there were almost a hundred people in your village. Now, fewer than twenty are standing here with you.
Then, as quickly as it began, the gunfire stops. The explosions stop. You strain to hear what’s going on, but all that there is is the sound of running water and your friends consoling each other in hushed tones. There’s no one to console you, no one for you to console. You just stand there looking as lost as you feel.
A figure emerges from over the hill. It’s Raven. There isn’t a scratch on her.
She slowly makes her way down the hill towards all of you and takes off her helmet. She’s younger than you thought she would be—by the looks of it, she isn’t even thirty. If it were under different circumstances, you might even have thought she was pretty, with light brown skin, dark brown almond-shaped eyes, thick, wavy black hair, a wide nose, and a slim, wiry build. But you’re not thinking about that right now.
You walk over to her hesitantly. You want to thank her, but you don’t know how. How do you thank someone for saving your life? For saving your friends’ lives?
“Miss Raven, I would like to offer my most sincere gratitude—” you start, in broken English.
“—Daniela,” she interrupts. “You can call me Daniela. Daniela Ortéga.” You nod.
“Miss Ortéga, I would like to offer my most sincere gratitude. I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay you,” you say, stumbling over your words. She merely holds up a hand to stop you with en easy-going grin on her face.
“Please, it’s what I do. You don’t have to repay me for anything. I’ll see to it that the damage team helps you and your friends get back up on your feet. Who’s the best person here for me to coordinate that with?” she says.
“Me. I am,” you say. She nods, pulling out a business card from a small pouch around her waist, and hands it to you.
“Here are the people you want to contact. If you need a phone, I can help you get that figured out before I head out.” You nod, and she pulls out a large cell phone and hands it to you. You look at her, hands trembling.
“Please, Miss Ortéga, I must repay you somehow—”
“—No,” she says, her voice adamant, putting a gloved hand on your arm. “You guys are safe now, and that’s enough for me. Got it?” You nod nervously.
“Will they come back? Are we safe for good now?” you ask after a moment.
“Their cell knows you’re under the protection of The Olympians now. They won’t be coming back anytime soon. And if they do, I programed our emergency info into that phone. We can have a local team on site within an hour.” You nod. “Anything else?”
Suddenly, it hits you just how tired you are. Your limbs all feel like they weigh a thousand pounds, and everything hurts. You shake your head and she smiles at you, giving you a pat on the arm.
“You guys are gonna get back up on your feet. I’ll make sure of it. It won’t be easy, and getting through this trauma is gonna take time, but eventually you guys are gonna be okay.”
Hope you guys enjoyed the story! You’ll definitely get to see more of Daniela in the future.
Until next time.
-Nick
Instagram: @the_disabled_writer
Twitter: @disabled_writer
Facebook: Nick O’Brien, Writer
TikTok: @the_disabled_writer