WHERE DREAMS CRUMBLE, AND LIES TAKE ROOT, A STORY KEEPER RISES.
Nature never deceives us; it is we who deceive ourselves. ― Jean-Jacques Rousseau
In a world where dreams shape reality, a silent virus has crept into the Mental Realm, corrupting the minds of humanity for millennia. Now, as it infiltrates AI systems across the globe, the fragile fabric of truth begins to unravel — threatening the sanity of humankind and the balance of the natural world.
At the heart of this growing crisis is Charlie Hanover, an ordinary receptionist with a tragic past and a desperate longing for a safe, mundane life. But when haunting dreams reveal a destiny she never imagined, Charlie is thrust into a conflict far beyond anything she’s known.
A shapeshifter.
A story keeper.
The last hope against a darkness infecting both mind and machine.
With time running out and the fate of all Realms hanging in the balance, Charlie must confront her past, awaken her hidden power, and decide whether to embrace the purpose she was born for… or risk losing everything.
WHERE DREAMS CRUMBLE, AND LIES TAKE ROOT, A STORY KEEPER RISES.
Nature never deceives us; it is we who deceive ourselves. ― Jean-Jacques Rousseau
In a world where dreams shape reality, a silent virus has crept into the Mental Realm, corrupting the minds of humanity for millennia. Now, as it infiltrates AI systems across the globe, the fragile fabric of truth begins to unravel — threatening the sanity of humankind and the balance of the natural world.
At the heart of this growing crisis is Charlie Hanover, an ordinary receptionist with a tragic past and a desperate longing for a safe, mundane life. But when haunting dreams reveal a destiny she never imagined, Charlie is thrust into a conflict far beyond anything she’s known.
A shapeshifter.
A story keeper.
The last hope against a darkness infecting both mind and machine.
With time running out and the fate of all Realms hanging in the balance, Charlie must confront her past, awaken her hidden power, and decide whether to embrace the purpose she was born for… or risk losing everything.
She slept the deep, unburdened sleep of innocence. Her petite frame, tangled in bedsheets, spooned a stuffed purple stegosaurus under a pretend sky of glowing stars. The serenity of the scene was disrupted when the air above her bed stirred like ripples on a pond and began to spin. The movement created a subtle whirring that could only be heard at the threshold between sleep and dreams. From the other side, a glassy black eye peered through the funnel-like opening and watched her sleep.
The sleeping girl’s eyes stirred behind her lids. Charlie began to dream.
***
She’s on the back of a raven gliding through a cloudless indigo sky. Below, a symphony of exotic birdcalls echoes through the primal forest of the Dreaming Realm, the place that dreams the Physical World into existence. The forest shimmers silvery white as if starlight runs through the veins of its flora. Charlie smiles when she spots the deep burgundy canopy of the First Tree, which towers over the forest like an otherworldly skyscraper. It’s familiar somehow. A vague memory of running her hand over the countless intertwining trees of its trunk, the bark of each having long worn away.
In the distance, though, something is off. A peculiar optical illusion of sorts. A portion of the sky and forest has a subtle gleaming metallic hue. Gaze long enough and it becomes evident that this region of the Dreaming Realm lacks depth and the shadows are all wrong; they’re reversed and the silvery sparkle is dull. For the briefest moment, Charlie glimpses the convex mirror-like edge of the anomaly Dreaming Realm inhabitants refer to as the Mental Realm.
Her attention shifts when her raven escort suddenly descends and lands on the forest floor in front of an enormous abstract living canvas of swirling turquoise and blue. She slides off the raven’s back and her eyes try to make sense of what or, rather, who she’s seeing.
The First Mother sits, eyes closed, at the base of the First Tree; her proportions mirror its enormity, her full breasts and round belly bursting with life. Thick mahogany dreadlocks sprout from her head and cascade down her mottled turquoise and blue body, spreading over the surface of the Dreaming Realm like spiraling roots.
Charlie’s eyes widen with wonder as they travel up the First Mother’s towering body.
First Mother opens her sea-glass eyes to find Charlie looking up at her.
“There you are, Little Bird,” she says, her deep, melodic voice a lullaby.
With a smile as warm as a spring day, First Mother reaches out to Charlie, her body reverting to human proportions the moment her hand touches Charlie’s shoulder. She invites the little girl onto her ample lap.
“I have a story to tell you,” she says.
Charlie’s curious little hand reaches out and touches one of First Mother’s dreadlocks. Her raven escort takes flight, distracting her, and settles on a low branch of the great tree.
“It was your story long before you were born, and now it’s your destiny.” With the softest touch, First Mother tilts Charlie’s head up until they’re looking into each other’s eyes. “So, it’s important to pay very close attention. Do you think you can do that?”
Charlie responds with an earnest nod.
First Mother pulls her closer until Charlie’s head is gently resting on the pillow of her breast. As First Mother speaks, the words of the story float out of her mouth, taking the shape of black, luminescent feathers that hover in the air above them . . .
Long before you were born, Grandmother Spider taught my human children how to weave the first stories, and they became the Gamah-teh, the Story Tellers. Grandmother Spider, perched on her web, told them, “You are one thread in the web of life.” She gestured with several of her thin, black legs to the forest around them. “The plant and tree and cloud beings,” she said, “the land and water and sky creatures—they are the other threads. They’re your kin.” She plucked several silky strands of her web, so they hummed in unison. “When the web is strong, there’s harmony,” she told them.
The Gamah-teh wove tales from their hearts, celebrating all their kin. Their stories were like the most beautiful songs you’ve ever heard. They sang and danced their stories under the night sky in good times and in bad.
But as the years passed, the minds of some grew restless, eager to understand themselves and the world and the vast universe they lived in. Their stories began to change. My human children became the heroes of their new stories, where they battled and conquered and devoured. The new stories no longer included the plant and tree and cloud beings, nor was there any mention of the land and water and sky creatures.
It was easy for the Gamah-teh to fall in love with these stories and to want to believe they were true. But what they didn’t understand was that stories coming from the mind alone were tricky. And these new stories were very tricky. The Gamah-teh could not sing or dance these stories. They had no melody. They had no heart. Over time, they forgot they were part of the web of life and they forgot about their kin.
They carried their empty stories across the land and the sea. It didn’t take long for their stories to become the law of every land.
The Gamah-teh didn’t know it, but they were starving themselves. They filled their minds with countless stories, ones that became more outrageous and boastful with each telling. These stories didn’t nourish them and pulled them farther and farther away from themselves and each other.
They became so full of each other’s twisty words that they could barely move.
The more stories they told, the emptier they became. The emptier they became, the more lost they felt. They became the Hakolah-khan, the Hollow People. My human children couldn’t understand why they were so heartsick.
First Mother pauses and brushes a lock of Charlie’s messy, bluish-black hair away from her face.
The little girl looks up, her large dark eyes heavy, and watches the luminous feathers of First Mother’s story slowly swirl in the air above them, waiting for the rest of the story to join them.
“This is a sad story, isn’t it?” First Mother says.
Charlie nods.
“A lot of stories start that way,” she says. “But you know what I love about stories?” Her full indigo lips spread into a knowing smile. “They can change . . . sometimes in surprising ways.” She glances at the floating feathers. “Let’s see what happens to the Hakolah-khan.”
One day, they heard a strange sound far in the distance. They heard the sound of two ravens laughing. But it had been so long since they’d heard laughter, they no longer knew what it was. Slowly, they moved toward the sound.
It took hundreds of Earth years, but they kept moving because they liked the way the mysterious sound made them feel.
They finally arrived at an ancient tree, much like the one behind me, but instead of leaves, this tree was filled with thousands of brilliant tiny white stars. Perched high on its twisting branches were the two laughing ravens. The Hollow People gathered around the tree, awestruck by its beauty, and many cried happy tears.
Grandmother Raven stretched her wings before addressing the crowd.
“We’re glad you made it!” she told them. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“And we know how hungry you are,” Grandfather Raven added.
The ravens flew to the top of the tree, each snatching a star in its thick black beak.
Grandmother Raven swooped down to the crowd below. She flew to the first Hollow Man, whose round face looked up with wonder, his mouth open like a baby bird’s, and dropped the star in the Hollow Man’s mouth. The star floated down, deep into his chest, and settled in his heart, where the rays reached out into every nook and cranny of his hollow body.
And then Grandfather Raven flew to the first Hollow Woman and gently placed a star in her mouth. She swallowed the star, and it filled her with the most beautiful light.
The crowd inched closer to see what would happen next.
The first Hollow Man and first Hollow Woman turned toward each other, retreating into the radiant depth of each other’s eyes . . . and they fell in love. They moved toward one another until they were locked in the warmest embrace.
When their lips touched, the stars in their hearts began to spin and grow bigger and brighter until their bodies melded and they became one. Their new body exploded with color and was filled with trees and flowers and mountains and rivers.
Grandmother Raven took in the breathtaking new person and said, “I remember you!” And then she turned to the rest of the Hollow People and asked,” Who else is hungry?"
The final wispy words of the story float out of the First Mother’s mouth and join the others swirling above their heads like a murmuration of starlings. Charlie watches as the feathery words move in unison and finally take the shape of an ethereal raven, which spreads its wings and glides in graceful circles above them before setting its sights on Charlie. She clings tighter to First Mother when the bird-shaped story locks eyes with her. Keeping eye contact, the ghostly raven dives toward the little girl and merges with her body, as if entering a pool of water, and settles into her heart. Charlie gasps.
“Now, you’re the Story Keeper,” First Mother says with a melancholy smile.
In the periphery of Charlie’s vision, a delicate amber twinkle gets her attention.
Perched within the massive branches of the First Tree are the fierce warriors of the Raven Clan, whom Charlie finds to be all at once familiar and strange. Their lithe bodies are wrapped in wide swaths of charcoal fabric, and their sleek, black hair is pulled tight against their heads, highlighting the elaborate facial tattoos adorning their dark, olive skin. Each member of the clan wears a simple glittery amber pendant reminiscent of the interior of a nautilus shell.
While caught in the gaze of hundreds of obsidian eyes, Charlie clings tighter to First Mother, who kisses the top of her head.
The clan members collectively spread their arms, which simultaneously transform into elegant black wings, and chant, “Rah-hīnah . . . Rah-hīnah.”
First Mother smiles and whispers in Charlie’s ear, “Raven’s Daughter.”
All at once, the clan shapeshifts into raven form and takes flight. The breeze generated by their wings moves the leaves in the surrounding trees and ruffles Charlie’s hair. They circle in the sky above the First Tree, making celebratory vocalizations. The blackness of their bodies fills the sky.
***
Charlie sighs in her sleep as her raven escort, having delivered her back from the Dreaming Realm, makes his exit through the spinning portal over her bed.
That is, until they meet again.
Charlie Hanover works very hard to have a normal life. In her defense, she’s been through a lot over the years, including the loss of her mother. So yeah, she’ll look away from the red flags in her life if it means she can have a bit of peace.
However, those flags are stacking up, and other elements of Charlie’s life are forcing her to face a certain truth. Worse, this isn’t just about Charlie, but potentially the fate of all the Realms, should the balance fall into disrepair. Charlie will have to walk into this with her eyes wide open if she wants to make a difference.
Whew! I finished Raven's Daughter: The Story Keeper, but I honestly needed to sit down and digest what I read before I could talk about it. This novel is intricate, dense, and deeply compelling.
Raven's Daughter: The Story Keeper is an interesting combination of genres and themes. I’m tempted to say it’s a genre-defying novel, which I know is heavy praise. It has fantasy (thanks to the magical realms), drama (Charlie’s backstory and personal relationships), and science fiction ( the AI and virus), but also a touch of apocalyptic storytelling and a few other odds and ends here and there. I’m a huge fan of interwoven genres, so each new layer was a thrilling addition.
While Charlie may be the driving force of Raven's Daughter: The Story Keeper, the story instantly feels larger than one person. In a way, it feels larger than life. It’s a lot to wrap your head around, but Wendy Halley did a solid job of walking readers through it.
Truthfully, I could have seen Raven's Daughter: The Story Keeper split into two novels. There’s so much ground to cover, not that I’m complaining about getting a “two for one” deal here!
The pacing keeps the story moving, while Charlie’s narrative easily adds reasons to care for what is happening. Other POV’s help to flesh the tale out or add more emotional stakes, which was a pleasant surprise.
All things said and done, Raven's Daughter: The Story Keeper was a fascinating read. I can sincerely say that it is unlike anything else I’ve ever read.
Highlights:
Fantasy Meets Sci-Fi
Multiple POVs
Layered Storytelling