I was exhausted. All day long I had been running to the cafeteria to buy coffee, sweets, and snacks for the managers. It was what I had to do if I wanted to climb the corporate ladder. However, I had a slight suspicion—actually, a certainty—that my boss had decided to promote someone newer to the position I was aiming for. I tried to swallow my frustration, to think, “my opportunity will come soon.” But two years have passed, and I’m still the assistant who delivers the coffee while my boss takes credit for the reports I write.

Today, the management meeting went on until 9 p.m., and they made me stay late to finish tending to them. I was an assistant, but apparently, they had mistaken me for an intern.

Anyway, getting home was all I wanted at that moment. On my way back, I noticed an old woman selling spiritual relics next to the café. I found it curious how people believed in that kind of thing. The old woman convinced me to buy a raven totem, claiming it would help me with something I deeply desired. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to say no, so there I was, heading home with the raven totem in my back pocket.

I entered my place, greeted by the familiar smell of dampness. I dropped the totem in my room, headed straight to the shower, and got ready for bed. The moment I touched the mattress felt like glory, and I was comforted by the thought that tomorrow was Friday. I curled into a fetal position when I noticed a strange smell coming from the bed. I frowned as my nose wrinkled. What was that smell?

I turned on the dim lights to see where it was coming from. I got up and searched the room, but exhaustion overtook me, and I decided to ignore the odd metallic scent and go back to bed. I slid my arm under the pillow to adjust it when I felt something wet and… hairy.

I instinctively pulled back, clutching the pillow tightly.

“Alexa, turn on the lights,” I said with a trembling voice, holding onto the pillow, now clearly stained with blood. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the blood-soaked feathers where my pillows should have been. A muffled scream escaped my lungs.

Then, I felt the bed start to sink—and I was sinking with it. I tried to get up, but the more I moved, the more I was pulled down. What the hell was happening? As the bed folded in on itself, I watched the bloody wings draw closer. Panic overtook me. I struggled with all my strength. The wings brushed against my face, and nausea overwhelmed me. I was suffocating. Everything went black.

—

I opened my eyes and found myself in some sort of forest. Dark. Foggy. Cold—very cold. Was this a dream? Had I just come home too exhausted?

A gust of wind tore through the air, pulling me from my thoughts. I saw a massive raven land a few feet ahead of me. It had glowing red eyes, jet-black feathers that nearly blended into the darkness, and giant, sharp talons. It stared at me intently. My feet were ready to run if needed, though I instinctively pinched my leg, trying to wake myself up.

“Oscar Opel,” I heard inside my head. Was the bird speaking?

“You chose me among so many power totems.”

“Did I?” I muttered, more to myself than anything.

“You have three wishes I can grant you, as my new master,” said the raven—or so I believed. It kept staring, spreading its wings slightly.

I said nothing. I was in shock. I had become some sort of unwilling Aladdin.

“I’m not wishing for anything…”

“Nothing? Are you sure? You don’t look so sure.”

Then, an image of my manager treating me like a servant came to mind—leaving behind his mess for me to clean, fully aware that no matter how hard I tried, he had already chosen who to promote.

I clenched my fists tightly.

“I have one,” I said, with determination and a hint of fear. Because how could I be sure that what I wished for would even come true?

The bird spread its wings and made a sound from deep in its throat that I interpreted as celebration.

Maybe the old woman was right. Maybe this totem really would change my life.