Wings tore from my back with a wet, sickening crack, but they weren't like the ones in fairytales. These weren't soft or glowing or beautiful. They were bent, bloodstained wings that trembled in the air as if they didn't belong to me… like they'd been forced out before they were ready. They didn't spread open with grace. Instead, they twitched slightly, bent at odd angles, hanging behind me like broken limbs.
Tears streamed down my face, from the pain of having my skin ripped open. The weight of the wings was heavy and every movement sent waves of pain up my spine.
Gasps echoed through the hall as the pain in my spine dragged me to the floor. My knees gave out before I even realized it. The blood soaking through the back of my dress felt warm, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in my chest.
