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I did the one thing I swore to myself, to my mother, and to the gods above that I’d never do.
I summoned my wings.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
They flowed from me, each fiber of each feather a thread of crystalline magic that never forgot how to soar, even if I tried to make it so.
I tightened my hold on Azra as we eased from a free-fall and into a glide. My wings stretched wide and proud, navigating the trees and turns with ease. An elation I’d never known left me more than weightless.
Bliss. This was pure, perfect bliss.
But not for long. There was no time to waste. I landed softly on the grass. Time to retract my wings and—
The deep shine of them glittered in my periphery.
I made the mistake of looking.
Have you ever thought that you didn’t look how you felt? Like your body or face or expressions weren’t a true representation of yourself?
In that moment, I realized I’d been missing an entire part of myself. Like all these years had been spent walking around with another person’s face.
It’s a bad analogy. But right now, I couldn’t think of a better way to say it.
With a trembling finger, I stroked a feather. It was soft white at the base, then shifted to a hazy gray, and then deepened at the tip to the color of thunderclouds.
“Why’d you name me like that, Momma?” I asked, tugging on her inky hair, damp from the shower. She smelled like soap and perfume. “Because of my wings?”
She smiled down, adjusting me on her lap. “You didn’t have wings as a baby.”
My eyes went wide. “Then how did you know I’d have gray wings?”
Her chuckle was like warm caramel. Comforting and sweet. “I didn’t, Pigeon, I swear. I had no idea!” She pinched my cheek until I giggled and tucked my chin away.
Her smile faded, and I knew she was about to get very serious. She continued, “I named you after your nature. You exist because two people broke the rules and loved one another. One side marked with the night sky. The other with the blaze of the sun. But life isn’t all black or all white. Most of life exists in the in-between.”
“Like me?” I supplied.
“Exactly like you.”
“Enemies,” I said carefully, returning to the part that was the hardest to understand. “You called them enemies. Demons and Divine. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Because we shouldn’t be enemies, should we?”
I shook my head. She’s told me this over and over and over. I knew this one. “Because on the inside, we’re all the same, right?”
Momma’s eyes had gone shiny. She replied, “Yes. We’re all the same, Pigeon. Remember that, even when it’s the hardest to believe. Especially when it’s hard. That’s when it’s most important to remember. Okay?”
* * *
The air stuck to my throat.
Trembling, I stretched my wings out to their full span. They smoldered in the shadows like crystal. The power within me thrummed and sang.
Grief filled my stomach, clogging my lungs, rising to my throat. And anger. So, so much anger.
But above all that was relief. Bliss.
The sound of footsteps snapped me back to attention. I gasped and remembered where I was. What I had to be doing.
