Turn Back from This Cave

Elisa couldn’t rest, no matter what her legs or lungs cried out. The Vitalum Institute was almost there—just beyond the ridge, nestled in that patch of canopy that made her wonder how Highcliffians managed to build such a facility with no casualties.

Her breath came ragged.

Climbing the incline the whole way through would do that to you. Branches scratched at her arms like the forest itself was trying to hold her back. Her ribs throbbed from earlier—Otto’s parting gift.

She stumbled. Caught herself on a root. Couldn’t stop. Not now.

She didn’t know what she expected. A clean corridor? A warm welcome?

If she was lucky, no one from the Eternal Shade had reached Vitalum yet.
Big if.

They’d no doubt sent someone already. Probably faster. Definitely prettier. Hopefully dumber.

Elisa kicked a stone off the path, watching it tumble into the underbrush.

If only she could transform into a bird. Or a bat, like Kael. Both prospects were equally unnerving—feathers or fangs, take your pick.

And then it hit her.

They had a dragon.

She stared toward the horizon, as if one might crest over the trees at any moment, winged and fire-breathing and very, very in the way.

That would complicate things.

For now, she got in.

Getting out was the issue.

The Vitalum Institute hadn’t changed much. No guards stopped her at the threshold. The receptionist barely looked up, just nodded for her to be on her way.

She doesn’t think this place was anything really insidious. It really was a place for Highcliff’s medically gifted to go to learn the healing arts. Any good and proper Highcliffian would have punched the person who came up with a scheme like Dad had.

Gods, did Cassie know the truth?

Jumping to too many conclusions, Elisa. Breathe. Breathe…

You got this.

She continued walking down the various wards. No one suspected her yet—she looked the part. Masked, leaner than before, shoulders pulled back with matched some sort of aura. A healer, maybe. A visiting liaison. Something official.

Elisa adjusted the strap of her bag and exhaled softly. She wasn’t here to start anything. Not yet. Just a daughter seeing her mother.

She eventually felt the faint footsteps of someone following her down the corridor. No matter where she turned next, the footsteps was still following.

Elisa hoped Cassie would’ve have taken a sick day.

“You know what I’m here to do, right?”

Cassie shrugged. “I can guess. You’ve got that look in your eye.”

She knew it.

“You're trying to stop me, aren't you?”

“I can try.”

Elisa narrowed her eyes. “You were never a fighter.”

A long and silent beat. “No. Can’t say I ever was.”

“Then you’re welcome to try.”

“…How did you find out?”

“Who else?”

Cassie chuckled, but there was no humor behind it. “So… your dad fessed up.”

“Eventually. How do you carry a secret like that for ten years and still sleep at night?”

Cassie exhaled, slow. “Elisa… the only thing I can do now is try to make you see reason.”

“If you say this is for the good of Highcliff, I swear—”

“It’s not. It’s about your mom. Her soul.”

“You think the gods won’t take her?”

“I think they’ll see it as an affront. A soul gifted, then squandered. They’ll be furious. Of both options, this is the most humane—”

Elisa stepped closer. “Just because someone refuses to fight—does that damn their soul? Is that what we’ve come to believe now? Be real with me, Cassie. You only ever considered this as a reason because it helped the Tide, didn’t you? The ends justified the means.”

“Your mother would’ve wanted this.”

“She’s not here to decide for herself, is she? How do you know that to be the case? You treated her like shit all her life and you expect her to give a damn about Highcliff? It was already damned!”

Elisa drew a breath. Slower now.

“You keep saying survival means accepting scraps of power. But that’s not adaptation. Nor ‘necessary.’ It’s just sick.” She stared at Cassie. “It’s sick, and you’ll do anything to justify it because the alternative is worse.”

Her voice didn’t raise all the while.

“I don’t even think you really believe what you’re saying. You and I both know whatever arguments you have don’t hold up for shit.” She stepped in, just slightly. “You won’t be able to sleep at night. You already can’t. Because deep down, you know you deserve it.”

Elisa stepped past her. “So go ahead. Try and stop me.”

Cassie stepped aside.

No words. Just a breath.

A sob soon caught in Cassie’s throat.

Elisa didn’t look back.

\\

When Elisa volunteered herself to Kael, none of them could look her in the eye. Like she was tainted already by even entertaining the thought.

How things come full circle.

It was funny how for so long she was content with watching her mother breathe. 

Even if she didn’t recognize her, or yelled and crawled back from her, it was enough to know one of her parents weren’t dead. 

She didn’t have many aunts and uncles to call back to. The village didn’t work like that. It was a patchwork of many different aunts and uncles. Privacy was seldom and fought for.

She stood over the bed where her mother napped, watching her breathe.

Somewhere down the corridor, a kettle whistled. Or maybe it was another patient, murmuring nonsense into the walls.

Elisa sat. Her hands found the pillow at the side of the bed. She held it in her lap, fingers curling into the seam.

Her mother stirred.

Not fully. Just a twitch. One hand shifted beneath the blanket, then went still.

Elisa stared at her.

Then—slowly—she leaned forward.

She placed the pillow gently over her mother’s face. Her hands trembled. She paused. Just… paused.

Her mother twitched again.

Then Elisa pressed down.

It was like pushing through water at first. The body resisted, but not consciously. Instinct. Muscles remembering how to fight.

A muffled gasp. Legs kicked once beneath the sheets. Then again. The body flailed, not violently, not with strength—erratic, confused.

Elisa shut her eyes.

She pressed harder.

The legs slowed. Then stopped.

Her arms didn’t move. She didn’t pull the pillow away.

The silence said it first. The chest no longer moved. The arms had gone slack.

She shook her once, then twice. Then again, and again, and oh, gods…!

Her own sobs muffled into the bedsheets as she bent down, forehead pressed to her mother’s shoulder.

The pillow slipped from her hands, falling soundlessly to the stone floor.

Elisa reeled backward, gasping for air like she’d been the one suffocating. Her mother’s body lay still. But something… something was happening.

A glow.

Soft at first—like moonlight dappling skin. Then brighter. Trails of pale gold traced across her mother’s arms and neck, like veins of light surfacing for one last time. The air around the bed seemed to shiver.

And then—

The light surged out of her mother’s chest in a single radiant pulse. And it struck Elisa square in the sternum.

She cried out, stumbling against the wall, clutching her chest. Her mouth parted, trying to breathe—but her breath came in short, panicked gulps.

Then the warmth came. And with it—

Feathers.

Small at first, wisps along her shoulders. Then growing. Bursting through her skin like roots breaking through dry earth. 

A scream which sounded torn and animal, her nails raking at her collarbones.

Her body buckled as the surge passed through her spine. Feathers fanned along her arms, her back. She collapsed to her knees, heaving, gasping.

Her fingers twitched.

Then clawed.

The pain had dulled, but something new had taken its place—a thrum. A beat. Not of her heart, but of the wind. Of sky. Of open, endless air.

She staggered to her feet, shoulders heaving, bones still settling into their new shape. Her back arched. Her mouth parted in a strangled sound—half-sob, half-call. Her pupils dilated. Her breath hitched.

And then she saw it.

A narrow window at the end of the corridor, cracked just enough to let in a sliver of light.

The sky.

Blue, endless, beckoning. It compelled her very nature:

Fly.

Fly.

Fly.

Her limbs moved before she could think—barefoot and shaking, sprinting down the tiled hall, shoving past the shrieking patients and swinging doors. Her hands scraped against walls for balance, feathers now brushing against her ears, her cheeks, her wrists. She had to fly. She had to fly. Be free be free be free—

She hit the glass hard, palms flat against it. Her breath fogged the pane.

And then, for the first time in minutes—she stopped.

Her mind caught up to her body.

“Mom… Fly away from this place.”

The ache surged again—momentum.

She pulled back her fist.

And with the kind of strength that only came from losing everything, she drove it forward.

Glass shattered outward in a spray of glittering shards, sunlight pouring in like a blessing. 

For a second, it almost felt like the sky reached back.

Her body moved before her thoughts could catch up. 

Bones cracked—no, shifted—slimmed down. Skin feathered. Arms folded in, snapping into sleek wings. Her back arched as her spine reshaped itself, hollow and light. Talons scraped the windowsill where feet once stood.

It didn’t hurt. It was instinct. Old as the gods, older than reason. She opened her eyes—sharper now, golden, cutting through light and distance.

She became a falcon!

Elisa spread her wings.

And then she took off.

Wind rushed under her. A scream of freedom tore from her beak. The sky didn’t just accept her; it welcomed her home.