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I am not only praying to get up the hill. I am praying that today is the day.
I am praying that today I get through the xaphanian trials. I am praying that today, I get my wings.
Because I am not quite sure what I will do if I don’t.
I have been trying to gain my wings since I was eighteen. It has been a brutal trial trying to gain my wings, which has caused so many broken bones, scars, and burns.
Trying to gain my wings has broken me over and over again.
But maybe today is the day.
I pray that I make it.
The walk up the hill is treacherous. I haven’t eaten since yesterday evening. This morning, there was only enough bread for my mother and my younger sister.
My brother and I allowed them to eat. My father was passed out drunk so I’m not sure he even noticed that he hasn’t eaten in days.
My brother will be fine. He works on the docks, and they’ll take pity on him there, so he will probably have a semi-decent lunch.
But I won’t.
It’s your own fault. If you had just worked harder, if you had just earned your wings, you would be living a good life right now.
As a human in New Solas, trying to earn xaphanian wings, trying to become one of those beings, is one of the most sought after achievements ever.
Gaining your wings means you become one of the xaphans. It means unlimited wealth and recognition.
It means you get power.
It means you never have to worry about anything ever again. It means your family is taken care of.
And very, very few humans have ever actually accomplished this.
Most humans who try to gain their wings are irreparably damaged and disabled in the process, and quite a large percentage of humans die trying to gain their wings.
It takes me half the day to get to the xaphanian training center.
I am dizzy and cold, and my throat is painfully dry when I get there. I am shivering and bile rises in my throat as I approach the doors.
I can’t keep doing this. My thoughts are almost frantic as I slow down. My breath hitches in my throat and my stomach, empty as it is, turns several times.
I can’t keep doing this. ***
I arrive home close to midnight.
My father is nowhere to be seen when I walk in, and both my siblings are asleep.
But my mother is awake.
Maybe she’ll let me stop today. Maybe today she’ll let me give up. I can probably get a job at the docks, or as a servant. That will help us out financially.
But I dread asking my mother this. I dread asking her to give me permission to stop.
I dread asking her for help.
She has wanted me to gain my wings to get us out of poverty since I was a child.
This is the one thing she wants me to do for her. And if I give up, I’ll disappoint her beyond measure.
