1218-10-07
Imari Solan:
"PREPARE!" the general yells.
I am exhausted. I do not even know who says it, maybe him, maybe my own thoughts breaking apart.
I pull my wings free. My proper wings. They don't tear through the armor. Instead the metal bends around them like water. It flows and reshapes itself as if it understands what I am. The pressure eases as they spread, aching but alive.
I look at Eryx. She meets my eyes and smiles. It is small, stubborn, the kind of smile you wear when you are too tired to quit. We have been drilling for hours. We repeat the same motions until our bodies scream. Neither of us wants to lose.
Pride keeps us standing when sense would have us fall.
I draw my sword from its hilt and settle into a defensive stance. She mirrors me.
This is Grounding.
A training exercise every Nezu must endure. We fight without flight, using our wings only as shields and anchors. They block strikes, absorb blows, and brace against impact. Every hit sends pain through them. I feel it each time steel bites into feathers and bone. No blood spills, but white feathers stain red where my own blood runs down my back.
The rules are simple. We cannot leave the ground for more than five seconds at a time.
"AND!" the general shouts.
I glance around and notice Queen Tamara watching from the edge of the training ground. Her presence sharpens everything. My breath. My focus. My will.
The sand beneath my feet shifts as the wind begins to settle. I can see my breath disturb it in small ripples. Eryx notices too. I can tell by the way her posture tightens, by the spark in her eyes. She is excited.
"FIGHT!"
Eryx lunges forward, spear flashing toward me with frightening speed. I snap my wings up, metal ringing as her strike glances off. I twist with the impact and counter with my own blade. She leaps back, light on her feet. An invisible timer ticks in my head.
I rush her as she lands.
Slam.
Our swords collide with a sharp crack that echoes across the courtyard. I grin as I push forward. I use my wings like braced fists to drive her back. She stumbles and falls. I raise my sword, ready to end it.
She explodes backward.
WHOOSH
A violent gust bursts from her wings. Sand and air blasting into my face. I lose sight of her for a heartbeat. When I see her again, it is already too late.
Time freezes.
It always does.
The world slows until everything feels thick and heavy, like moving through ice. I do not question it anymore. I think it has something to do with the wings. In this stretched moment, I move.
I surge forward. I use my wings like hammers, slamming into her and driving her back before she can recover.
She laughs.
A cruel smile spreads across her face. She drops her sword into the sand, completely unafraid.
Eryx moves before I can react.
She drops her weight low and surges in, her wings snapping forward with her arms. Four limbs move as one. She catches my wrists mid swing, feathers and fingers locking around my hands. The swords are forced wide, deflected with brutal precision. I barely have time to register it before she drives a knee into my ribs.
The air leaves my lungs in a sharp gasp.
She does not let go. One wing hooks around my shoulder, the other slams into my side like a shield. We collide chest to chest and the fight turns ugly. No form. No grace. Just force. I swing my elbow. She blocks with a wing and counters with her fist. Knuckles cracking against my jaw. I stumble but stay upright, trying to shove her back.
She twists, using her wings like extra arms, grabbing and pulling while striking at the same time. A punch to my chest. Another to my shoulder. I feel the shock ripple through my ribs. I try to retaliate, but she is already moving, wings bracing, fists flying.
Then she sweeps my legs.
I hit the ground hard. The impact rattles through my body and the pain in my chest blooms, sharp and deep from the repeated blows. I suck in air and fail to find it.
Eryx stands over me, breathing hard, eyes bright.
"Nice try," she laughs
"Thanks." I cough.
"Is it? Sixteen to two," she says.
"Hey," I reply, "I'm sure I'll get there."
She helps me up as we both retract our wings.
"PREPARE!" the general yells once more.
I catch myself, struggling to stand. I try to pull my wings back, but they won't budge. They feel like new muscles after overuse, stiff and stubborn. I grit my teeth, grip my hands, and try again. Again and again. Finally, they fold in.
They look different. Tired. Drooping at my sides, heavy from the exertion.
CLAP.
I look up. It's Tamara. Her skin glows in the sun, her face perfect, serene. Her hair shifts in the wind, almost like it has a will of its own. I can't see every detail because the sunlight blinds me, yet somehow I know every line of her face, every subtle movement. I give a small smile and bow instinctively.
"You did well, everyone," she says.
I barely notice the other Nezu preparing and fighting around me. I realize I haven't paid as much attention to them as I have to Eryx. Some have blue wings, others silver. One has pure white. I even recognize the newest recruit.
Tamara walks over to us, a soft smile on her face.
"You have all done very well," she repeats. "I couldn't be happier to call you my protectors, and the protectors of my children."
We all bow to her, our beloved Empress.
"Why don't you sit?" she says, smiling.
"But Tama, we … "
"If they never rest," she interrupts, his voice firm, "they will never grow truly strong."
We all sat before her. Tamara retracts her golden wing and uses it like a seat so her legs are safe from the hot, harsh sand. We follow her example, folding our wings beneath us.
"It's time to explain to you how you all got your wings…"
We lean in, listening intently. Her voice continues, calm but commanding.
"I'm sure Mercury would have told you that I chose your color, but that isn't entirely true."
A gasp fills the air as she countries to speak
"In order to understand," she says, "you need to know what Pendryx is."
Her voice is calm, patient.
"Pendryx is an alloy made from ance, multiple metals, and your blood."
I feel my wings twitch slightly at my back.
"The color of your wings is determined by the color of ance used."
The newest recruit raises his hand, hesitant. "What is ance?"
Tamara smiles. "A wonderful question, An'Tem."
"Ance is formed from the blood of dragons," she continues. "There are many colors."
She gestures to Eryx. "Red."
Then to An'Tem. "White."
Then to me. "Purple."
"The color depends on the type of dragon. Earth dragons produce green ance. Water dragons blue. Wind dragons pale silver. This is why most Nezu, until recently, had yellow wings."
Eryx raises her hand. "What about black wings?"
Tamara's expression darkens slightly. "Black is difficult. It forms when too much metal or too much blood is used, overpowering the ance itself."
"The Pendryx is used to create the tattoos you were given," she adds.
"So yours are gold because," I begin.
"My tattoo was made using Horus' ance," she finishes.
She pauses for a moment. "You don't only gain wings. You gain power tied to your dragon. Red wings have been known to wield fire. I can manipulate heat and light, though not to Horus' level."
Another Nezu raises his hand.
"Yes, Khar?"
"Aren't we allied with Tethambia? Why don't we receive time dragon ance and time based abilities?"
Tamara exhales slowly. "Unfortunately, Tethambia slaughtered all time dragons. Time ance is exceedingly rare."
"Why would they do that?" another Nezu asks.
"Before Tethambia became our vassal state, they were required to give up their time dragons. They refused and slaughtered them instead."
"How dare they," Eryx snaps. "Dragons are our equals!"
"I never agreed with it," Tamara says evenly. "However, it was near the end of the Hundred Year War. Too much time has passed for it to change now."
Many of us weren't even born yet. I wonder why a people afflicted by dragons would slaughter them all. It makes no sense for Sha'tar to kill the time dragons, yet that's the story they're told.
The story Gold was told.
Why would Tethambia slaughter every time dragon? What do they gain from it?
"Can't dragons stay in eggs for tens of years?" An'Tem asks. "Are there truly no eggs left?"
"Even if one existed," Tamara replies, "I doubt they would tell us."
She pauses. "Which is why we needed a better ally. We allied with Nor."
She looks at me, a small smile forming. "We did receive a small amount of time ance from Tethambia's new rulers. It was used to give Imari his wings."
Her eyes pierce me, then soften.
"Do you remember our visit to Nor. Eryx and Imari?"
"Of course," I say. "I've never been that cold."
"I remember as well," Eryx adds. "They lived in huts made of snow and broken wood. Surviving off a single flame."
"The reason we need Nor," Tamara continues, "is their stockpile of ance. Most dragons die there, but those who survive become exceptionally strong. Their ance is potent, and their people are immune to cold and corruption. Their hair turns white from the cold."
"Nor will be our strongest ally in the coming conflict."
"What will we do with Tethambia?" I ask.
"Slaughter them," she says calmly.
"Those who slaughter what we hold sacred and offer no benefit deserve death."