Page 29 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

Is there a chance of changing?

We head over to the temple of Otero, the god of power and war, and I do my best to hide between the others by staying in the middle of the crowd.

A huge likeness of the god dominates the temple, his head nearly grazing the ceiling. Otero is depicted as a powerful man in his prime, in body armor and with a spear and sword, the helmet under his arm, and his shield leaning against his leg. His eyes are crafted out of blue stones glowing with magic and fixed on a golden bowl in front of him.

I wonder if they have to charge the stones regularly.

The riders leave us in the care of the temple priests, their attire as warlike as their gods.

One after another, we prick our fingers and let the blood drip into the golden bowl. It instantly goes up in smoke while we pledge our allegiance to the skyriders and the crown, repeating the words the priest speaks over and over.

I somehow expect to feel different now, but I don’t. My left shoulder burned for a second, and my body tingled like something brushed against me. The snake in my core shifted, but that was it.

Classes start right afterward, and our schedule is tough. We start with sparring. My body still hurts from Assessment, but since I’m the only one who refused healing, I can’t complain.

My aching muscles slow me down, earning me a nasty hit to the hip, and my ribs and arms sport new bruises. If that streak continues, I’m sure my skin will be all blue and purple at one point.

I sigh in relief when the sparring is over, not only because my body gets a break but also because Joel hasn’t shown up again since the temple. I know this charade won’t last, but I can still hope, right?

Next, we have the lore of the sky, which seems to be a fancy name for skyrider history. Professor Etario fits the name of the class since he uses extra words wherever possible. A habit that drives me crazy within minutes.

Etario is a small man with thinning, cropped dark hair and a bouncy step who uses a lot of hand gestures.

He currently bounces from one side of the room to the other, telling us about the founding of the skyriders about three hundred years ago.

“While there have always been riders not unlike today, the skyriders as a military unit formed relatively late in the history of our realm. Can one of you tell me when that was and what caused it?”

“To finally eliminate the threats born from the mists, as well as the damn cursed ones, and these abortions of half beasts,” says Gorgon, the brutish guy I faced during Assessment.

“That would be wrong,” Etario answers. “Please raise your hand next time—Foley, was it? You wouldn’t happen to be related to our deputy commander, would you?”

“He’s my father,” Gorgon replies proudly.

“I see,” Etario answers in a way that has me overthinking my earlier opinion of him.

Maybe I can overlook his wordy habit after all.

“Anyone else?” Etario asks. And I know I shouldn’t, but my hand is already up.

“Professor, I was just wondering, was there ever a cursed one, shifter, or fae bonded to a bird?” I ask, unable to pass up this opportunity.

“As if we ever would have trusted one of them to protect our back,” Gorgon scoffs, causing agreeing murmurs throughout the room.

“Runner Foley, you have hands. Use them.” Etario admonishes before turning to me. “There are no occurrences of that in the records, but they probably wouldn’t have made it widely known since their social standing was already strained at the time the skyriders formed.”

“So there was a time when that was different then?”

“I like your enthusiasm to learn more about our history, but may I ask what triggered your questions?”

“The healer, during questioning, mentioned something. It just made me curious,” I answer as casually as possible.

“Our records don’t mention any singling out or persecution of one or more magically gifted groups during the rule of the gods or the rule of the demi-gods, but they don’t mention the mists either, so it is hard to say if it didn’t happen or simply wasn’t mentioned.”

What a complicated way to say I’m not sure.

But if it is true…what changed?

I’m still marveling at that question while walking down the corridor next to Calix when I hear a familiar voice in front of us. I slip behind Calix, skirting around him so he is always between me and Joel. I release my breath once we pass, and Calix looks at me quizzically.

---