Chapter 1 — Where White Feathers Cast Red Shadows

Memory is unfair.

It doesn't always show you the things that mattered most.

Sometimes it gives you stupid things.

The smell of rain on polished stone. The weight of a half-broken buckle against your hip. The sound of someone laughing before you knew you'd one day give anything to hear it again.

That afternoon, I remembered sunlight.

I remembered Seris smiling at me.

And I remembered thinking I still had time.

“Welcome back, Star-Chosen.”

I stopped just inside Caeloria's western gate and stared at her.

Seris stood in the middle of the road like she'd been waiting there all day, pale-gold hair tied back with a blue ribbon, one hand tucked behind her back. The other lifted in an exaggerated little wave.

Behind me, six exhausted soldiers shuffled to a stop.

Cassian nearly walked into my wing.

“Don't.”

Seris blinked.

“Don't what?”

“That.”

“What?”

I pointed at her.

“The face.”

“My face?”

“The innocent one.”

Cassian snorted.

I slowly looked over my shoulder.

He raised both hands. “Don't drag me into this.”

“You laughed.”

“I breathed.”

“That wasn't breathing.”

“That was absolutely breathing.”

Seris stepped closer, eyes dropping to the long tear in my coat and the dried blood across my side.

Her smile faded for half a second.

I noticed.

I always noticed with her.

Then she poked my chest.

Hard.

“Ow.”

“You're late.”

“I was fighting a gravewyrm.”

“You said you'd be back yesterday.”

“The gravewyrm didn't care about my schedule.”

Cassian leaned around my shoulder.

“In fairness, Zyrion did politely ask it to die faster.”

Seris looked at him.

“He did not.”

“He did.”

“It seemed worth trying,” I muttered.

One of the soldiers behind us laughed.

Seris pressed her lips together, clearly losing a battle with herself.

“Did the gravewyrm apologise?”

“No.”

“Rude.”

“Exactly.”

And just like that, she was smiling again.

I wish I could say I understood how precious moments like that were.

I didn't.

That's the cruel part.

You don't recognise the last ordinary week of your life while you're living it.

To you, it's just Tuesday.

Seris reached toward the rip in my coat.

I caught her wrist.

“I'm fine.”

She looked at my hand around hers.

Then at me.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

Cassian walked past us.

“He's lying.”

“Traitor.”

He glanced back with a grin.

If I'd known what that word would mean seven days later, maybe I wouldn't have said it so easily.

Maybe.

Seris pulled her wrist free and grabbed the torn edge of my coat instead.

“You're going to the healers.”

“I can heal myself.”

“You said that last time.”

“I did heal myself.”

“You sealed an arrowhead inside your shoulder.”

“That happened once.”

“Twice,” Cassian called.

I narrowed my eyes.

He kept walking.

“I hate both of you.”

“No, you don't,” Seris said.

I looked at her.

For some reason, that simple answer hit harder than it should've.

Back then, she could say things like that without hesitation.

And back then, I never questioned them.

“No,” I admitted.

“I don't.”

We started toward the inner city.

Caeloria spread ahead of us in white stone and hanging gardens, its towers joined by silver bridges high above the streets. Aetherians moved through the air between them, bright wings catching the afternoon sun.

My own wings drew attention almost immediately.

Whispers followed.

Then pointing.

Then someone called my name.

“Zyrion!”

I pretended not to hear.

A group of children rushed toward us.

One little boy stared up at me with wide eyes.

“Did you really kill the gravewyrm?”

I crouched.

“No.”

His face fell.

Cassian stopped beside me.

I continued.

“We killed the gravewyrm.”

I pointed to the battered squad behind us.

“They kept it trapped. Cassian found the weak point. I just had the strongest weapon.”

Cassian's smile slipped for a moment.

The boy looked at him.

“You're Cassian Vale?”

He straightened slightly.

“Depends. Am I in trouble?”

The children laughed.

One girl noticed the blood on my coat.

“Did it hurt?”

“Very much.”

Seris slapped my shoulder.

I winced.

“Still does.”

“Good,” she said.

The children laughed again.

One of the older boys stared at Epitaph hanging at my hip.

“Can I see your guns?”

“No.”

His eyes widened. “Why not?”

“Because your mother would kill me.”

A woman standing several steps away immediately called, “He's right!”

Cassian laughed so hard he had to turn away.

Seris folded her arms. “Look at that. A sensible decision. Should we mark the date?”

“I make sensible decisions.”

“You challenged a gravewyrm from the front.”

“It was looking the other way.”

“That somehow makes it worse.”

“It worked.”

Cassian finally caught his breath. “Barely.”

I pointed at him. “You're meant to support me.”

“I did. With arrows. From a safe distance.”

“Coward.”

“Alive coward.”

The soldiers behind us broke into tired laughter.

That was another thing I remember.

Nobody stood straight around me after a mission.

Out there, away from the Council and its ceremonies, I wasn't some holy weapon wrapped in prophecy. I was just the idiot who forgot his bedroll twice, burned breakfast whenever he tried cooking, and once spent an hour arguing with Cassian over which direction was north.

He'd been right.

I still blamed the map.

A young soldier named Rhea stepped forward when the children began asking about the battle all at once.

“Lord Caelaris didn't win it alone,” she said proudly. “Commander Vale kept half the ridge from collapsing on us.”

Cassian's expression changed.

Only slightly.

I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“He did more than that. We'd be dead without him.”

The children immediately surrounded Cassian instead.

For once, nobody was looking at me.

I thought he'd enjoy it.

At first, he did.

He crouched beside them, drawing shapes in the dust as he explained how he'd trapped the gravewyrm between two cliffs. His hands moved quickly, his voice gaining that excited edge it always got whenever strategy came up.

Then a passing merchant noticed us.

“The Star-Chosen!”

Heads turned.

Just like that, the crowd shifted back toward me.

Cassian's explanation stopped halfway through a sentence.

I didn't see the way his fingers slowly closed around the drawing stick.

Seris did.

Her smile disappeared.

Only for a moment.

Then she looked at me.

And I, completely unaware, smiled back.

Back then, I thought the strange look in her eyes was concern.

I was wrong.

Seris was better at noticing cracks before anyone else heard them break.

I never imagined one of those cracks was standing beside me, smiling like nothing had changed.

For a few minutes, things felt normal.

No prophecy.

No Council.

No Star-Chosen.

Just us.

Then the bells rang.

Three clear notes from the highest tower.

The square went quiet.

A pair of Council attendants crossed toward us, their robes white enough to hurt my eyes.

The older one bowed.

“Star-Chosen.”

There it was again.

Not Zyrion.

Never Zyrion.

“We've been waiting for your return.”

“I gathered that.”

“The High Council requests your presence at sunset.”

Seris's hand tightened around the cloth she'd been using to inspect my wound.

“For what?”

The attendant didn't look at her.

“A matter concerning the western campaign and Lord Caelaris's future obligations.”

My future.

Funny how often other people discussed it like communal property.

“I just got back.”

“The Council is aware.”

“Then the Council's also aware I've been awake for thirty-six hours.”

“The matter is considered urgent.”

Cassian stepped forward.

“He'll attend after he's been treated.”

The attendant finally looked at him.

There was something in that glance.

Recognition.

Small.

Quick.

I missed it then.

I don't miss it now.

“Of course,” the man said.

Then he reached beneath his robes and produced a sealed black envelope.

He didn't give it to me.

He handed it to Cassian.

“For the command report.”

Cassian stared at it for half a heartbeat too long.

Then tucked it beneath his cloak.

“Understood.”

The attendants left.

Seris watched them disappear into the crowd.

“I don't like that.”

“You don't like the Council breathing,” I said.

“They somehow make it suspicious.”

Cassian laughed.

But it sounded weaker than before.

I turned toward him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

Too quick.

I should've noticed.

Maybe part of me did.

But trust has a strange way of making obvious things look harmless.

Cassian had fought beside me since we were boys.

We'd bled together.

Starved together.

I'd slept with my back to him beside campfires in enemy lands.

I'd trusted him with my life so many times that trusting him had stopped feeling like a choice.

It was just there.

Like breathing.

Like gravity.

Like the halo above my head.

I looked up as the sun dipped behind Caeloria's towers.

Warm evening light passed through the floating gardens, turning every silver bridge gold.

Then it touched my wings.

White feathers caught the sunset.

Their long shadows stretched across the road beneath my feet.

And for just a moment—

the dying sun painted those shadows crimson.

Seris stepped beside me.

“Come on, hero.”

I groaned.

“Not you too.”

She bumped her shoulder against mine.

“Healer first. Council later.”

“And food?”

“If you behave.”

“That sounds unfair.”

“It is.”

Cassian moved to my other side.

“For once, Zyrion, listen to her.”

“I listen.”

Seris stared at me.

Cassian stared at me.

I sighed.

“Occasionally.”

“Better,” Seris said.

I looked between them.

The two people I trusted more than anyone in the world.

Seris with that little smile she used whenever she'd won an argument.

Cassian with the same stupid grin he'd worn since we were boys.

And me?

I smiled too.

Why wouldn't I?

The mission was over.

My squad had come home alive.

Seris was waiting for me.

Cassian was beside me.

The evening was warm.

And somewhere ahead, there was food, sleep, and another tomorrow.

So I followed them home.

Back then, I didn't notice the black envelope beneath Cassian's cloak.

I didn't notice how his hand kept drifting toward it.

I didn't notice the crimson shadow beneath my own white wings.

Seven days before everything burned...

I still believed that's what this place was.

Home.