September 28th, 2023 remains as Rachel Griffin’s possibly best memory for, basically, the rest of her life. The memory of the way the Raven, the Guardian of the World, gazed at her with approval when she chose to give up her life to save the world is not only a tremendous comfort to her, but a prime pivot point, after which everything is different for her.
It is as if, when he gave her back her life, every moment after that was a gift of extra time—time she wants to devote to keeping the world, all worlds, as safe as she is capable of keeping them.
Here is the scene from The Raven, The Elf, and Rachel:
Sakura froze mid-sentence and stopped moving. Zoë and Joy stopped moving, too. Startled, Rachel looked around. Her heart froze in terror.
The gigantic, red-eyed Raven was flying directly at her.
The Raven flew through the closed window. It landed on the floor and hopped a few times. Then it transformed into a man. He was eight feet tall with enormous black wings and a blinding circle of light above his head. In this light, Rachel felt an impression of extraordinary diligence, as if her mind were focused upon completing the tasks set before her and nothing else. A determination to persevere took hold of her, a very familiar feeling. It was the feeling that possessed her when she was flying or pursuing knowledge. It felt. . .
Just like her.
The Raven reached up and pulled the ring of light off his head. It turned into a large gold hoop. Rachel’s personal determination to do her part remained, but the outside inspiration that had temporarily reinforced it vanished.
The Raven in his man-form was wearing black slacks but no shirt or shoes. He looked at Rachel sadly. “So, little one, tell me what I should do.”
“I’m so very sorry,” Rachel whispered. Now that the outside emotion imposed by the golden hoop was gone, she felt so frightened that her chest was resisting the order to breathe. “I thought I was helping. I thought I was being careful. Is there some way to move backwards and make it forgotten again?”
“I cannot move time backwards. I can change the memories of these children. But I must also change the gift within this one,” he pointed at Sakura, “or it will happen again.”
“Gift?”
“When I rescued her from the darkness Outside, I tried to leave her as close to her original self as possible. This was hard because her essence is very orderly. Her gift is one which suppresses sudden changes and chaos. I did not realize it would also break carefully-constructed changes. It must be removed and remade so as not to interfere with what I do.”
“You mean she interferes with magic, don’t you?” asked Rachel. “That’s why her spells have such odd results. And why the brooms would not work correctly for her?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Does it matter if she suddenly grows up? I mean, she’s just one person.”
“Will she keep the matter quiet? Allow me to provide an explanation that is understandable by the laws of this world? Not try to find out more about her life Outside?” the Raven asked gravely. “The illusion that the world is safe is difficult to maintain. There are forces without battering at the Walls, trying to get in. They wish to rip apart this world and destroy everything within it. They will use any excuse to enter.”
“Then why don’t you stop Nastasia’s visions?”
The Raven glanced upward. “They come from One with whom I shall not interfere.”
“Who?” asked Rachel curiously.
The Raven said nothing.
“Can you change Sakura’s gift without hurting her?”
“I can, but that is not what worries me.”
“What. . .” Rachel’s mouth suddenly felt terribly dry. “W-what is worrying you?”
He gazed at her with his blood-red eyes. “It would be wisest for me to change you as well, Rachel Griffin. But, to do so would be a great injustice. Unlike these others, your perfect recall is part of who you are. To alter it, after you have learned so many things, would be the same as making you into someone else. Someone new. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Rachel understood exactly. Her memory was woven together like an intricate web. To change her memory, he would need to remake her mind—which was essentially the same as killing her and putting a new person in her place.
Rachel swayed on her feet, feeling faint. The entire universe seemed to tremble with her heartbeat.
Her voice cracked as she begged, “Can’t you leave me the same? Please, I’ll be quiet about—everything. I won’t say anything … to anyone!” She rushed over to him, pleading. “I don’t want to not be me … oh!”
Rachel’s body went rigid. Her pupils slowly widened.
What was she saying?
Wasn’t this the moment for which she had been wishing?
A chance to sacrifice herself for her world?
“I take it back.” She lowered her lashes humbly. “I want to help. I wish to save the world more than I wish to be me.”
The room was utterly silent.
No clock ticked. No bird called. No rumble of thunder came from the tor. All she could hear was her own breathing and the rustle of his feathers. He regarded her more closely.
With fierce determination, she raised her head and met his gaze, though tears blurred her vision. “Go ahead. Change me, too. Unless—” she tried to swallow but could not, “unless I could serve the world better by remaining myself.”
The Raven’s eyes shone as he regarded her. They were not scarlet anymore. They were gray and very, very steady.
“Child,” he lay his hand on her cheek, “I would sooner rip the sun from the heavens than change you from who you are.”
“Are y-you sure?” Rachel barely recognized her own voice. Looking up at him towering over her, she searched his face. “I don’t want to be the one who destroys the world.”
“I know you will protect the world,” the Raven replied gravely. “I will find another way.”