His Wings

Light crept across the world.

As the moons tucked away their faces, and darkness fell from the Heartsprings, the sun began to rise. The last of the embers fluttered to the ground like snowflakes. They hissed as they landed in the divine pools, joining the floating ashes that now weighed heavily upon the water’s surface. Soft ash covered all of the sacred springs, a snowfall that came too early and blanketed black things.

The shattered headstone of a god of happiness.

The blackened outline of a human figure, hands outstretched to an unforgiving sky.

The smoke that rose from the great tree, darkening a blood red sunrise.

The Lord of the Forest, kneeling before an empty meadow.

The dragon curled into himself.

Mother unfurled her vast filaments, flooding the Heartsprings with life giving energy. Her tendrils reached from the deepest depths of the lake to the heights of the greatest redwoods. The Heartsprings stirred, beckoned and coaxed by her presence. Tiny green shoots pushed through the layer of ash, promising renewal.

Some denizens were more tentative than others, clinging to their hiding places. The first to rise were the stymphalian birds. They tore from the trees, wings of bronze shimmering across the horizon like emblems of the coming day. Metal feathers tumbled from the sky, their cries echoing across the Heartsprings.

The threat to the Heartsprings had seemingly vanished, nothing more than morning mist fleeing the light of day. And most took heart, believing the nightmare to have truly ended.

Sthuna was not amongst them. Anguish was a cold companion that curled in his ribcage, a serpentine coil that chained his mind and heart.

Maybe he wasn’t going to be alright.

Really, it was hard to tell.

Sthuna was a soldier. He had been prepared for injuries. He had had many severe ones, in fact. But he had never been maimed in a way like this. One that took away his very identity. A dragon that could not fly was no dragon at all.

With every twist of his body his muscles twitched, phantom tremors reverberating in limbs that no longer existed. His mind was a darkened, feverish thing. He could almost feel his wings once more. But then the sensation would vanish. Replaced by a vacant emptiness where his wings should have been.

Somewhere, in the back of his thoughts, he recognized that he might be in shock. The only thing keeping him grounded were the gentle touches along his scales. Normally something he would have hated. But Eyna’s hands were soft and warm.

The scenery around them changed. He heard different voices, some hushed, some excited, some whispering, some chattering. The soft and melodic voice of Mother emanated through the earth. And at some point, Father joined the conversation. His voice was a deep rumble that punctuated Mother's softer speech.

Father had survived. That was good. Sthuna could only dimly register it all. He wondered what had become of the Executioner. If Father had survived, it could only mean that the Executioner had not.

Amazing…

Father was stronger than he had thought.

Sthuna had been wrong.

As it seemed he had been about many things.

His thoughts drifted as he glanced up at the sky. A pair of fae entangled, dancing overhead in ways that made their vivid stained glass wings shimmer. And, oddly enough, the dragon found it beautiful. All of the Heartsprings. It was something he had started to realize from the moment he arrived, but had not truly accepted until that moment.

Eyna tugged upon him. “Hey…”

Sthuna closed his eyes.

“Hey.”

Sthuna drifted.

“Hey!”

His eyes slid open. Eyna was looking obstinately down at him. “Quit acting like you're about to die.”

His eyes shot wide open. After all the tender care she had been laying out on him, he was surprised to hear the note of reprimand in her voice.

“Yes, you heard me. I see that look in your eyes.”

Sthuna felt a flare of outrage. He hissed.

“Oh, now you’re getting all hissy on me?”

He growled. “You…. dare-”

“I do dare.” She flicked his snout. “You’re not dying, Sthuna.”

He couldn’t believe her. “Go away.”

Her hands no longer brought him comfort. Now he just wanted her to leave.

“No curling up,” she reprimanded.

His growl deep into a snarl. Teeth bared savagely. But all it earned him was another flick on the nose. The motion didn't hurt, but it agitated him.

“Stop it! I’ve lost everything! I might as well-”

Eyna took his snout in her hands. She held it, her skin warm against his scales. “Sthuna.”

“No!”

She held on until he looked at her. “You haven't lost everything.”

He whirled on her. “What would you know?!” His voice is utterly deadly.

Eyna held him firmly. “Do you see these?”

“Do I see what-”

He trailed off as Eyna flared the wings at her back. The light hit their dark, gleaming surface. Sthuna’s eyes were drawn to them, as if magnetized. She had beautiful dragon wings. Absolutely breathtaking. The perfect curvature of wing membranes. And the graceful curve of her thumb talons…

Spellbinding.

“These are your wings, Sthuna.”

It took him far longer than he would care to admit to process what she said. And when he did, his answer was not particularly intelligent.

“... no.”

“Yes.”

“No...”

“Yes! They are.”

“No, they aren’t.” He tried, but he could not keep venom in his voice. All the harshness was gone. Her wings were striking. It was impossible to be upset when he could see them.

“Yes. They are. I’m just holding on to them for a little while.”

Her words gave him pause. She smiled at him. A gentle smile, sweet and warm as spring rain. “That's right. Borrowing. I'm going to give them back to you.”

Sthuna felt the need to point out the obvious. “Those aren't my wings. My wings are…”

Were.

Reality was a heavy chain around his neck.

Eyna was determined not to let it drag him down. “Maybe not now. But they will be.”

She leaned in and gently poked him. But the poke was not like her usual touches. This one jolted him all the way down to his bones. He yelped, certain for a moment that she had actually heard him.

Eyna laughed, delighted. “You yelped!”

“I did not yelp.”

“You did so.” She poked him again.

He jolted. There was that bizarre sensation. Eyna pressed down gently on the strange patch of skin that he had grown. He had been treating it a little bit more like a rash than anything else, avoiding looking at it. It was rather astounding to actually feel how much sensitive output it had.

“See, I just poked you on that human skin. That's not your skin, right? It is, but it isn't.”

She held up her hand. With a flourish, Eyna pointed to the patch of scales that adorned her skin. In his opinion, they were deeply charming. Far more becoming than the odd human-rash on his forelimb. The scales glinted in the sunlight, complimenting Eyna’s eyes. The human skin was merely… Spongy.

Eyna continued. “We swapped. Which means it's the same with the wings. I might have wings that look like they're mine. But they're actually yours. Humans don't have dragon wings. But the thing between us makes the impossible possible.”

‘The thing between us’. She wasn't calling it a curse anymore. And from the way that she framed it, Sthuna no longer truly felt like it was, either.

“... That doesn't make sense.” It actually did make sense to him. The more he thought about it, the more it gave him an odd sense of… Hope. Premature hope maybe, and therefore still a bud. But hope all the same.

Eyna pressed a soft kiss to his snout.

He snorted, startled by the move. His expression of utter bewilderment provoked another laugh from Eyna. She didn't give him time to contemplate her bold move. She was tugging him up to his feet. His claws churned up petals, long tail swaying behind him.

“Come, come! We're going to get breakfast.”

And, just like that, in the same way that she pulled him up from the coil of his body, she drew him from the dark of his mind.