Raven looked at the gate and sighed. "Man, this is going to be so much work," she muttered. "Gate, open."

Many had said those words. To rescue their princess or prince from the castle of the dark witch. The gate stayed stubbornly shut to them.

But to Raven the gate swung open with a creak.

Weeds were starting to sprout through the gravel path and Raven made a mental note to tell the weeds to stop that.

The yard was full of dark shadows, ones that promised to make your skin crawl, even though it was morning and the sun was shining.

But at least the yard shadows stayed where they were. Inside the castle, the shadows darted around in front of her as she walked toward the audience chamber.

Raven put her hands on her hips as she got her first look at her aunt's main chamber. The ornate wooden throne, the tapestries depicting gross things, and the trappings of her life.

Her aunt was one of the wicked witches, the bad fairies. The one who showed up at christenings and did the Sleeping Beauty thing, created poisoned apples, lured children off the road to the gingerbread house with the really big oven.

And Raven was her successor.