The storm lasted two days. Trapped in the cave, Kael and Kira had no choice but to wait, sleep, talk. The fire wasn't enough to warm the cramped space, but their hardened bodies didn't suffer from the cold. On the morning of the third day, the wind died. The snow stopped.
They resumed the road.
The landscape had changed. The ridges were smooth, sculpted by the storm, and the trail had almost disappeared beneath a thick layer of white powder. Kael led the way, growing slower. Each step required useless effort. The snow clung to his boots, slowing his progress.
Kira walked behind him, silent, but Kael felt his gaze.
"You want to say something," Kael finally said without turning around.
"No."
"You're lying."
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About this. About us. About what we're doing."
"Walking?"
"Yes. Walking."
Kael stopped. He turned to Kira, his face reddened by the cold, his grey-red eyes squinting against the glare.
"You have a better idea?"
"Maybe."
"Then speak."
Kira untied his pack, set it in the snow, then straightened up.
"How long have we been walking?"
"Five days."
"And how long before we reach the pass?"
"Another week, maybe more."
"A week in this snow, with dwindling supplies, risk of ambush, and beasts lurking."
"It's the shortest route."
"No. The shortest is to fly."
Kael looked at him.
"Fly."
"Yes. Fly. Do you remember? The wings. That thing some demons possess and unfold when they don't want to trudge through snow."
Kael was silent for a moment.
"I had forgotten."
"You forgot you had wings?"
"I spent ten years in a dream where I didn't have any."
"And now?"
"Now I remember. But it's not that simple."
Kira raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because I haven't used them in over ten years. I don't know if they'll still respond."
"There's only one way to find out."
"Which?"
"Unfold them."
Kael hesitated. It was an admission of weakness he didn't like. But Kira was right. They were wasting time. And the pass wouldn't wait forever.
He stepped back a few paces, spread his arms, and closed his eyes.
He searched within himself for the ancient warmth. The one that came from his shoulder blades, between the muscles, where the wings folded when not in use. He hadn't felt them in years. But they were there.
He clenched his fists.
"Come on," he murmured.
Nothing happened.
"Focus," said Kira. "Not with your head. With your body."
"I know."
"Then do it."
Kael took a deep breath. He relaxed his shoulders. He stopped thinking.
A sudden tear opened in his back. The fabric of his tunic gave way. Two dark masses unfurled on either side of his body, ripping through the wind. The feathers were black, gleaming, edged with blood-red reflections at the tips. The span was immense, far wider than he remembered.
Kira stepped back, impressed.
"They're larger than before."
"You think?"
"Yes. Much larger."
Kael moved slightly. The wings responded to the slightest twitch of his shoulders. He spread them fully, feeling every feather, every joint, every current of air.
"It's back," he said.
"You feel capable of flying?"
"Need to test it."
"Here?"
"Why not?"
Kael bent his legs. With a powerful thrust, he launched himself from the ground. Snow exploded around him. The wings beat once, twice, then found their rhythm.
He rose.
The wind rushed beneath his feathers. The ground fell away. The ridges became dark lines beneath an immense sky. Kael climbed higher and higher, letting the mountain scroll beneath him.
It was exhilarating.
He had forgotten this feeling. The freedom. The power. The world seen from above.
He dove, pulled up, banked on his wing. The movements were returning. Not the memories from the dream. The memories of the body. The ones that never truly disappear.
After a few minutes, he descended and landed near Kira, throwing up a cloud of snow.
"Well?" asked Kira.
"It works."
"Just 'it works'?"
"It was better than before."
"I suspected as much."
Kael folded his wings. They disappeared into his back, leaving no trace on his clothes. Only the torn tunic bore witness to their passage.
"And you?" Kael asked.
"Me?"
"Your wings."
Kira looked down.
"I haven't used them in a long time."
"Why?"
"Because half-demons like me don't like showing their wings. It attracts attention."
"You still flew."
"Yes. When it was necessary."
"And now, it's necessary."
Kira hesitated.
"They're smaller than yours. Less powerful."
"It doesn't matter. You can fly."
"Yes."
"Then unfold them."
Kira took a breath. He closed his eyes in turn.
The tearing sound was more discreet. Two wings appeared on his back, thinner, more nervous, ash-grey that blended into the mist. They were less majestic than Kael's, but perfectly adapted for swift flight.
"About time," said Kael.
"I didn't think I'd be flying so soon."
"Neither did I."
"But it's simpler than walking."
"Much simpler."
They looked at each other.
"Shall we go?" asked Kira.
"Yes."
They launched themselves.
The wind carried them above the ridges. The mountain stretched beneath them, immense, silent, streaked with shadows and light. Kael led the way. Kira followed close behind, his grey wings beating faster than Kael's.
"We'll reach the pass in two days," Kira shouted over the wind.
"Maybe less," Kael replied.
"You want to fly at night?"
"If necessary."
"You're not tired?"
"No. And you?"
"A little. But I'll hold."
"Good."
They flew for a long time. The sun was setting on the horizon, bathing the peaks in orange light. Clouds drifted beneath them, thick and soft.
"Why didn't we do this sooner?" asked Kira.
"Because I had forgotten."
"You forgot you had wings."
"I forgot what it felt like to be a demon."
"And now?"
"Now I remember."
Kael accelerated. His black wings cut through the air with quiet power. He felt neither cold, nor fatigue, nor doubt.
He was home.