Not everyone knows this:
Light cannot enter the world on its own.
It is too pure, too fragile.
It needs something strong, something silent, to carry it through the dark.
And the one chosen… was Raven.
Raven was born from the last breath of dusk —
its feathers black as the ashes of fading stars.
It lived in silence, in the places where no name echoed,
where dreams slept deepest.
But Raven was not alone.
Inside its heart burned a single ember — a memory of the Sun.
Each night, when the world sank into shadow,
Raven flew to the edge of existence.
There, the Sun curled itself into a sphere of golden fire,
waiting.
Without a word, Raven took it gently in its beak
and began the journey —
flying through mist and night,
carrying hope for those too weary to dream.
No one sees Raven.
They only see the light break across the sky,
painting the earth awake.
But if you listen closely —
in that very first breath of morning —
you’ll hear the hush of wings overhead,
and a voice soft as wind say:
"I come from the dark,
but I carry what never stopped shining."
