Tobiah: Raven Rises Again
The Battle is Over
The battle had ended. Miyu was gone — her iron grip on Evergrand finally broken, her dreams of domination reduced to little more than rubble and shame. Across the wounded city, life began its slow crawl back toward normalcy: battered streets bustled with workers repairing the scars of war, once-empty markets bloomed with colors and laughter, and children played games in alleys where soldiers had once patrolled.
From the high balcony of the mayor’s residence, Tobiah watched the city he had fought so hard to protect begin to heal, but he could not share in the people's joy. Their voices drifted up to him in waves — cheers of gratitude, songs of freedom — yet all he heard in his mind was the echo of a single name: Martha.
The guilt never left him. It clung to him like a second skin.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her — shackled, trembling, eyes wide with a terror that begged for salvation he had failed to give. Martha had not been a fighter. She had not stood in open rebellion. She had simply been a prisoner, a tool in Miyu’s cruel game to hurt him where it would break the deepest.
And Miyu had succeeded in leaving a wound no speech, no ceremony, and no title could ever truly heal.
Behind Closed Doors
Within the walls of the mayor’s residence, Tobiah lived more as a shadow than a leader. The grand halls were silent and cold, the flickering candlelight doing little to chase away the heavy gloom that clung to every stone and curtain. The office, with its polished wood and official seals, felt like a stage built for someone else — someone braver, someone stronger.
Each night he wandered the halls until exhaustion drove him to restless sleep, unable to shake the weight pressing down on his chest. He remembered Martha's death not as an event, but as a failure — a silent accusation carved into every thought, every heartbeat.
He could not bear to look into the mirror anymore; the red-eyed tuxedo cat who stared back was not the Tobiah the people believed in. He was something fractured and hollow.
On one such night, when the rain battered the windows and the city lay cloaked in mist, Tobiah found himself standing before the hidden chamber tucked behind the bookshelves. His fingers, trembling with hesitation and dread, brushed the edge of the concealed latch. Inside, wrapped carefully as if to contain a spirit too fierce for daylight, were the tools of a life he thought he had left behind.
The Raven’s cloak.
The Raven’s lightweight armor.
And most importantly, the Raven’s mask — dark, sharp, and unyielding, hiding every hint of the vulnerable boy underneath.
Without the mask, Raven was incomplete.
Tobiah reached for them, and with the slow, steady movements of someone stepping into both memory and necessity, he armored himself in silence once again.
That night, Evergrand’s true guardian returned — not as the Mayor, not as the hero of the light, but as a shadow, masked and silent, watching over them from places they would never see.
The Return of Raven
Moving through the wet streets with a grace born of necessity and pain, Raven became a silent fixture of the night. His black cloak billowed behind him like smoke. His mask, sharp and unyielding, reflected nothing of the broken boy within. To the common eye, he was a figure out of stories — no past, no future, only the unrelenting now.
He did not fight grand battles nor lead mighty charges. His work was subtle: stopping a thief who preyed on the desperate, repairing a broken barricade before anyone noticed it had fallen, delivering supplies anonymously to families too proud or too frightened to ask for help.
Whispers of the Raven spread through Evergrand’s recovering streets like wildfire.
A shadow had returned, not to rule, but to serve.
Not to seek glory, but to heal the wounds no council decree could mend.
Tobiah — hidden beneath the Raven’s mask — found a strange kind of peace in these quiet acts.
Each step, each gesture, each unseen kindness was a thread, stitching shut the gaping hole left in his heart.
Not erasing it.
Never erasing it.
But surviving it.
Unexpected Visitors
Returning from another night’s quiet patrol, rain dripping from his cloak and pooling at his feet, Raven slipped back into the mayor’s residence by way of an old maintenance passage he had discovered in exile. His masked face turned toward the dimly lit corridors with practiced caution, every step calculated to avoid detection.
But when he reached his office, he realized too late that he was not alone.
Sitting casually behind his desk, feet up and flipping through official city reports, was Bruno Hearthstone — the broad-shouldered bear Penitatas, easily recognizable by the thick black Medico (M) collar snug around his neck — while across from him, Luna Silverbranch, the keen-eyed fox Volontaria, toyed with a data pad, the black (V) emblem clearly stitched into her collar for all to see.
The instant Raven entered, both of them froze.
Bruno leapt to his feet, knocking the chair over with a loud crash, his eyes wide with shock and suspicion. "Who the heck are you?!" he barked, already half-drawing a stun baton from his belt with the clumsy speed typical of his clubby build.
Luna rose more slowly, her tiny frame poised and ready, golden eyes narrowing with a calculating glint — a survivor’s instinct honed through a second childhood she embraced with newfound spirit. "Looks like we finally caught the city's little night ghost."
For a heartbeat, Raven — mask and all — considered simply vanishing again into the night. It would have been easy. Two steps back, one flick of the grappling line, and he would be gone into the storm.
But something deeper, something tethered to who he was — not the mask, but the heart underneath — made him stay.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Raven reached up and pulled the mask away.
Tobiah’s face was revealed beneath — rain-soaked, weary, older than his years — and the stunned silence that fell over the room was heavier than the storm outside.
Bruno’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he found words. "T-Tobiah?!"
Luna’s ears twitched, her voice softening into something almost tender. "You've been the Raven all this time?"
Tobiah nodded, setting the mask carefully on the desk like one might lay down a weapon after battle.
"I couldn’t just sit here anymore," he said hoarsely. "Not after Martha. Not after watching her die because of me. I had to... do something. Be something. Someone strong enough to keep this city safe... even if it meant hiding in the shadows."
Bruno, his large paw steady and warm, crossed the distance between them and placed it gently on Tobiah’s trembling shoulder.
"You ain't alone, bud," Bruno said gruffly. "You never were. And you never have to be."
Luna’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, sharp but kind. "Every hero needs a team, even the ones who wear masks."
And in that moment, despite the crushing weight of his guilt, Tobiah realized he didn’t have to carry it by himself anymore.
A New Pact
That night, without ceremony or speeches, a new alliance was forged between three Penitatas — bound not by punishment, but by trust and shared hope.
Bruno Hearthstone, with his strength and calming spirit, became Raven’s steadfast shield.
Luna Silverbranch, with her quick mind and nurturing heart, became his guide through the city’s lingering darkness.
By day, Tobiah wore the suit and title of Mayor.
By night, cloaked in black and hidden behind the unyielding mask of Raven, he became Evergrand’s unseen protector.
Neither role was complete without the other.
Both were parts of the boy who refused to let one more life slip through his fingers.
And though the wound Martha’s death left in him would never fully heal, it would no longer define him.
Epilogue
The rain finally broke, and a pale moon rose over Evergrand’s battered skyline.
High above the streets, perched on the highest spire of the mayor’s residence, the Raven stood silent watch — his black cloak fluttering in the cool breeze, his mask glinting silver in the moonlight.
Evergrand slept, unaware that both its Mayor and its masked guardian watched over it.
And somewhere deep within the boy who bore both burdens, a silent promise burned:
"Never again."
To be continued...
