Her Wings

Eyna reached her hands up, as if she could prevent the devastation unfolding above her head.

I have to do something-! Something, anything, please-!

She stumbled as still burning embers licked at her bare skin.

“No!”

The scream tore from her throat.

Pain flared up her back. Ravenous pain, spreading through the filaments of flesh and root networks of nerves. In the pain, her confusion was raw. Had she been hit by something? Had the fire found her? There was no understanding. Just the feeling, in her very bones. It was as if harsh steel struck each of her vertebrae, the resonance vibrating up and down her body until the agony was a burning, tearing sensation she could make no sense of. Blistering and hungry, and branching up and outwards, until, until, until -

Fresh wings tore from her spine. Curving dragon wings, trembling and folding, slick in the gleaming light of the fires. They glimmered and flailed at her back, black as night. Black as the obsidian shards that glinted in the growing light of day.

Eyna was shaken. Both from the emergence of the wings, but also from the strike of their sensitive membranes against stone and earth and tree as they flailed. They beat wildly and uselessly in response to her panic.

There was no time to think. Barely time to breathe. Let alone to contemplate the miracle that was flight as Eyna achieved it in those singular moments. Wings outstretched, clumsy but desperate, she reached for Sthuna as he fell from the sky.

The dragon was still burning, like a star falling from the heavens.

Her wings beat wildly. They failed her for a moment, and she plummeted. But rising winds caught them again. As if powered purely by her determination, she rose high into the sky.

Eyna didn’t so much catch Sthuna as crash into him. Her uncoordinated movements sent them both tumbling forward. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, eyes squeezed shut. She willed her newfound limbs to do something. To work, to get them safely down.

Sthuna was unresponsive, his head and body limp against her. His tail writhed in the air as they fell together. She held him more tightly, even as the last of the fires ate through his wings. The heat burned at her hands until it was no more, but still she clutched him.

Desperate hands held the ashes that were once his wings, as if she could bring them back together. But the wind tore them from her hands and scattered them across the night sky.

She tore her eyes from the sight, even as it threatened to wrench her heart to pieces.

They whirled through the air.

Eyna’s pulse pounded in her ears. The wind wailed around them, surging like a wild thing. She kept a death grip on Sthuna, knuckles white with strain.

The ground was rushing up to meet them in a blur of black. Eyna desperately scrambled at the air, her wings twisting painfully. Like a ball joint rolling the wrong way, the air pressure hit her hard and one wing collapsed in on itself.

Eyna squeezed her eyes shut, wings wrapped around them as best as she could. And the best that she could do was to act more like a slowing mechanism than true flight. Her movements were clumsy things when compared with Sthuna’s elegance in the air.

I’m sorry, Sthuna-

They hit the ground and everything went black.

...

....

...

Eyna had a strange dream.

In it, her eyes opened. 

The world was ashen, painted in tones of gray and black like a sketch etched in charcoal. Faint dapplings of red, droplets of blood on the canvas, bloomed. Strange and alien flowers that pushed their way up from the layers of ash.

Eyna tossed and turned, trying to see, trying to make sense of the hazy landscape around her. The smoky air stung at her eyes, making them water.

Eyna lifted a hand to rub her eyes.

She froze.

The skin that lifted to her face was taut. Marred by scars. It was a hand she did not recognize, yet one that extended from her body. It trembled as she turned it over. It moved stiffly, hampered by scratches and gouges. Burns and stitch marks. Scar tissue built upon scar tissue, twisting like silver vines.

She looked at it numbly.

Ah. I see… This is a dream.

The thought calmed her. She witnessed the world through a detached lens.

Eyna coughed. The smoke was in her lungs. For a dream, the sensations were vivid. She could feel the flare of pain in her body. The struggle to breathe. And a weight upon her, as if she weighed a thousand pounds.

Stones churned underfoot. A figure disturbed the ash, emerging from the hazy world around her.

It was the knight. The dark figure that she had glimpsed, if briefly, in combat with Father. His footsteps were heavy, the sound of metal chains swaying at his side. The knight approached Eyna, coming to a stop before her.

For many moments, there was no sound. Ashes swirled around them, landing softly over the knight’s dark armor. His helm was seamless, resisting the efforts of the dying light to grasp it, to fill it with clarity, to show her who was behind it.

He spoke.

It was a voice like shards of glass dragged over cold stone. Every word was dark and burdened, as if each individual breath was a thing of pure pain.

“... Such… cruelty.”

… Cruelty?

“... I will… end it. I… promise you.”

Eyna could not answer. For already she was growing sleepy. Slowly, slowly, her eyes slid shut. To fall asleep in one dream, only to awaken in another.

The fragrance of magnolias bloomed in the air.

Somewhere in the distance, soft ceremonial bells chimed.

“Eyna.”

A soft voice like velvet and white lilies.

Eyna slowly opened her eyes. Delicate white-pink petals drifted through the air. A bed of flowers surrounded her like an embrace, so lushly adorned that it was like passing through silken clouds.

The bells chimed again.

Tears stung at Eyna’s eyes. Relief, joy, and a sense of being nearly totally overwhelmed all swirled together. It was an end to the nightmare, where time distorted and her world burned away. The tears slid down her face, raindrops that dappled the magnolia flowers.

Mother had awakened.

The darkest hour was truly over.

“You need not cry, my delight. All will be well. You were so brave, so good. But you need not worry now.”

Mother curled gentle branches around Eyna’s wrist. The presence of the Great Tree was a balm on her heart, healing wounds Eyna had not known were inflicted. The fear of the fire. The anguish that had gripped her.

The flowers bloomed before her, soaking the tears from her skin.

“Is… Is Sthuna…?” Shakily, Eyna wiped her tears away.

The branches tightened slightly around her wrist. “He will be alright.”

“His wings?” Eyna’s own fluttered weakly at her back, splayed awkwardly on account of a body that knew not how to properly fold them. She wanted to ask about those, too. But there were other things, and people, on her mind. “He’s badly injured.”

“He will be alright,” Mother repeated.

Eyna’s eyes fell on the dragon.

She felt her heart shatter once again, seeing the ruins of his wings. Mother’s filaments were wrapped around him, healing the injuries. But where his proud wings once flared, there was only marred skin. Scales churned up at the ragged, angry red edges of burns. They looked like brands.

Sthuna’s head rested heavily on the earth. And Eyna knew, with a bone deep certainty, that he was awake. The curse was as much a bond that flowed between them now. She could feel all three of his hearts pumping. The agony in them.

She placed a hand on his side. Her hands traced his silver scales. Then, gently, she gathered his head in her hands. She guided it to her lap.

“He's hurting…”

Saying ‘he would be alright’ seemed like a gross oversimplification. How could he be alright after everything? He might not be feeling any physical pain with Mother’s healing… But he was hurting in more ways than just physical pain.

Under normal circumstances, she would have trusted Mother's words. Mother always knew best. But Eyna felt conflicted. She knew Sthuna wasn’t okay. And she knew that he needed more help than just closing the wounds on his back.

“Sthuna…” She leaned down, hands stroking across his dragon scales. “... I’m here.”