Page 13 of Glass Wings

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Almost as if adorned with grated gold, the light green wings danced in the torchlight. The wing's pigment darkened, turning into a deep leather brown down on the ends of each side.

“Beautiful,” Cleopatra admired in a hushed voice.

Djoser, with the speed and sharpness of a falcon, stepped up into the sky before disappearing into the stars.

Fourteen hours had passedbefore the Kinnari landed, barefoot and shirtless, in a pile of previously undisturbed snow. This high peak settled into the Himalayan mountains had always remained absent of humans and wildlife, both preferring Everest and other less deadly journeys. Often as a child, Djoser was convinced that their peak was unreachable unless by wings. The sky was often gray, and the wind was harsh enough to topple any person off balance into a painful, long fall back down.

Djoser, immediately chilled by the icy air whipping at his chest and abs, began putting one foot in front of another. After several agonizing steps, his toes black from the cold, he placed his hand on the frozen wall of snow and ice before him. Already missing the Egyptian climate, he began to dig with his bare hands.

Djoser uncovered six or seven inches of the tightly packed cement-hard snow before finally scraping against the ancient stone that he was looking for. He pushed the remaining snow out of the way to reveal a door, a portal to the in-between of this world and the magical world, their own land where they were not invited, Mrilyosis.The door groaned, and more snow toppled down as Djoser yanked on its handle. The twenty-foot brick of stone opened and allowed access to the temple, a torch-lit hallway ahead of him.

Shadows danced in the hall, wide enough for full-grown wings to take flight. Djoser left wet footsteps behind him and walked through its length. The air grew warmer as he neared the great room. An irritation twitched through his wrists as he started to hear faint voices from ahead.

Several faces gathered around a large communal table turned to him, greeting Djoser with various expressions ranging from friendly, amused, to uninterested.

“The first collective meeting we’ve had in what, eight hundred years, and of course, this one strolls in a day late and shirtless,” mused a Kinnari female with fiery red hair and crystal blue wings, sitting on the distant north side of the table.

“With that welcome, I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t want to spend more time here with you, Roksana.”

Djoser slighted his head to address Arryn, who was frantically pacing the length of the table, likely waiting for his arrival.

“I came as soon as the scroll did,” Djoser assured his equal. Arryn nodded and motioned for him to sit with his outstretched hand. The table, which could easily sit forty mortal men, seemed crowded between the six Kinnaris, all with wings lazily outstretched as if they were no more than a ponytail resting down their backs.

Allienna sat closest to the head of the table. If Arryn was the king, then she would be his queen. Reign sat to Allienna’s left, feet propped up on the table, making sure that she took up the most space.

Opposite them were the twins, Roksana and Precession. They were identical in every way down to their eyes and corresponding wing color. These two were the most terrifying beings that Djoser had ever encountered, not from their power alone, but from Roksana’s overwhelming need to protect her dear sister.

Precession, eyes the lightest blue, took in a breath and stood up while visibly shaking and struggling under the weight of her wings pulling down her frail frame. The expression that played across her eyes was that of disbelief. She lived with a power, a responsibility so great that it more closely resembled a curse. Her magic was solely responsible for the rotation of the planet Earth and its draw to the moon.

“There has been a decision made here,” Precession whispered, “that changes this planet's momentum.” Her eyes rolled back up to the ceiling as if she were about to faint, and Roksana quickly stood to support her back down to her chair.

Roksana’s head snapped towards Reign as a wicked smile danced across her freckled lips.

“It’s her,” she pointed at Reign. “The reason we were all summoned here has to do with her. I can taste delicious regret melting off of her as if butter in a pan.”

“Do not amplify those emotions, Roksana. We need to get through this discussion with as few dramatics present as possible,” Reign responded, pulling her feet off the table, and moving into a posture a politician might have.

Roksana let out a slight hiss, not able to carry out the game that flashed through her mind now that Reign had voiced the command.

“What do we all drink these days?” Arryn tried his best to diffuse the tension.

“Something fucking strong.” Djoser laughed sadistically, slamming his hand down on the surface before him.

Arryn walked over to the opposite end of the Hinoki table, pausing in front of Djoser before closing his hand around the air. A beautiful clear drinking glass appeared, filled with a dark liquid served neat. Arryn placed the glass down in front of Djoser before waving his hand casually, filling the twenty-five feet of the surface with plates of olives, nuts, roasted boar, casseroles, and lentil pies. The other Kinnari all grabbed the various glasses now sitting before them, enjoying wine or other variety of spirits that suited their preferences.

“Now it’s a party,” Djoser said, knocking his drink back with a single gulp and then watching as it magically refilled in front of his eyes.

“A fire would do,” Allienna requested, and Arryn immediately obliged as a wood-burning fireplace appeared in the center of the otherwise large and empty room. Windows appeared on the walls, letting in what Djoser could only assume to be artificial natural light, considering the temple was constantly buried in snow.

Another hallway, also lit by torchlight, mirrored the one Djoser entered on the opposite side of the room. It led to Mrilyosis,where magic and gods roamed free, a place where hate for their kind had been fostered, mostly at Arryn’s hand alone.

This is where they all grew up, in this very room.

“Now, to address our dear Roksana,” Arryn said, shooting an apprehensive look toward her. “Yes, this is about Reign. The Life Gifter has sentenced her to an immortal death.”

All eyes around the room widened, taking in the shock of this news and what it truly meant.

Djoser stopped breathing. White rage and anxiety filled his body as if Arryn were simply refilling him with more liquor.