Page 87 of Glass Wings
Amis thought about the day that the Vrae first attacked them as children, staring at Sheng’s back, his white dress shirt finely pressed, not a wrinkle to be found. He had been trembling and all but hiding in a corner of the temple as the oily, shiny skin of a Vrae in its true form stared at him with its gleaming red eyes before turning away to feast on Tristan. The boy, his brown curls steeped in his own blood, convulsed on the floor while three other Vrae continued to tear into his flesh.
Amis could never forget those sounds of pulling and chewing, the sounds of Tristan’s screams as he was eaten alive. What was left of his body was bone, bits of skin, but yet he returned to them somehow, alive, choosing to live through dreams and not in the physical realm. So many years had passed without knowing, without suspecting that the trajectory of his existence had been manipulated by someone’s secret survival. The attack had not resulted in a true death.
If Amis knew they did not really die, he may have made different choices. But after that attack, he left the temple in fear. He had been a coward. He flew until the ocean was underneath his feet and then descended once he hit land once more. His feet touched down where he sensed one of the four portals, undiscovered until then, which eventually laid the foundation for his village, for his Waihema.
It had been thousands of years since they last spoke of it, since Sheng had sighed and finally trusted Amis enough to tell him his story. Amis remembered as they stood on the outskirts of the Waihema forest, modern human civilization thriving only forty or fifty kilometers from where their little village had grown undetected. He had been watching Sheng, the Vrae who spared him, who had chosen not to attack him. He watched as he bonded with villagers, only participating in the slaughters enough for his survival, and learned to shift into a human form.
“When I was created, there was only hunger,” Sheng’s words still played in Amis’s mind. “A lust for a special blood that pooled out of a body, out of wings, a dark blue. My creator, my mother, Ayurveda, held me in the palm of her hand and watched as I learned what I could do in my Vrae form. I was deadly, pure darkness, as she was pure light.”
He still is deadly,Amis often reminded himself.
“Together we were goingto rule both the Earth realm and Myrilosis. We had to eliminate the Kinnari first and in tandem, find a way to give Ayurveda more energy than even her creator possessed,” Sheng said.
The Life Gifter.
“It wasn’tlong after that I was no longer alone,” Sheng continued. “Other Vrae were created to aid in our goals. I was in charge of their care and education. We all were eventually released at your temple entrance. I still remember the groan of the stone door as we entered. The surge of energy when I bit into that Kinnari boy was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was my first taste. I was high and didn’t ever want to feel anything else again. Then I saw your eyes, the terror as I approached to attack. My head ached from the conflict, not ever had experienced morals before.”
It was my magic,Amis thought to himself, still not fully ready to describe exactly what he could do to the original Vrae as he looked out to the shore.
Amis hadto bring balance back to the room, to the temple during that attack. There was too much fear, too much anguish. That’s why Sheng couldn’t attack him, that’s why Djoser came into his power that night. Tristan had been taken from him just moments before. Death had to claim Vrae to stay harmonious. The Kinnari were made to foster life. A Kinnari death, even for just a moment, would result in a cosmic chaos that would force his magic to implode with no sense of control over a solution.
Amis sometimes wonderedwhat Djoser’s magic might have been if he hadn’t intervened, or if it would have fostered any ability at all. He was thankful that none of the Kinnari understood his own power, that the gift of death had unintentionally come directly from him.
“Ayurveda didn’t seemto notice when I sought you out after that,” Sheng had continued, “When we found a portal that placed me in this forest. I confessed the Vrae’s need for your blood. You then askedfor a few decades to farm a solution, to keep your original Kinnari family protected from us.
“I didn’t expectto fall in love with those beings, too, the part Kinnari creatures bred from humans. I wanted to protect them and instead, all I’ve seen year after year is a replay of a doll covered in blood hitting the dirt. A child that I laughed with, taught me to skip stones, dead. Her name, Emere, only remembered by me.”
Amis remembered that child.She had been a part of the fourteenth generation of villagers. He remembered the garbled demon shriek that came from Sheng as he watched his own kind devour her.
Sheng paused,picking up a stone with solemn eyes as if he still grieved her. “Eventually, Ayurveda realized that we were not hunting Kinnari as we were created to. She noticed that we were not looking for a way for her to harness more power, to rival the Life Gifter. She still confided her plans, not realizing that I was the reason for needing them. She blamed only the others, and she often killed them as punishment, creating new Vrae in their place.
She wasto wait for an organic birth of power that itself rivaled the Gifter. Karmakara showed her the possibility, or was forced to. She would harness that power before she realized what it was, turn it into her own personal weapon to move forward with that plan. She alluded that I had a large hand in fostering that power. I knew then my expectations were to breed, to wait patiently for the right womb. I knew that I could keep the other Vrae in check until that person came along.”
Amis hoveredin the corner of the office as Sheng worked at his desk, looking at the yellow color forming on the edges of the gigantic leafed plant. Sheng was going through stacks and stacks of documents before preparing to leave for his business trip. He had to keep up appearances since he had built a shipping empire, among a few other businesses, with his immortality.
“Are you sure? Are you sure that having a child with this Kinnari will create the weapon that Ayurveda has been waiting for?” Amis asked.
Sheng looked up at that and turned his head towards Amis, his eyes curious about where this conversation was going. He nodded, his eyebrows raised.
“I am certain,” Sheng said. “Knowing that ahead of time will give us a better opportunity to hide that child, raise it far away from the goddess that will annihilate all life simply so that she may conquer it, so that she is adored, worshiped and feared. Hadley’s happiness is an unfortunately necessary sacrifice for the fate of both realms.”
Hadley’s voice in the distance made Sheng shoot up out of his chair in concern.
“You may go. You’re leaving to tend to Waihema?” Sheng asked, not waiting for Amis to confirm. Amis heard Hadley’s faint sobs again and rolled his eyes.
Does she ever stop crying?Amis thought.
“She is struggling.” Sheng stood from his chair. “I must go tend to her. If she doesn’t survive or mentally breaks beyond healing, then all this was for nothing.”
“A monster trying to save us all,” Amis chuckled. “Who would have known that our Kinnari slaughter farm would lead here?”
“I’ve always only looked for the best life path. I may be like a spider, hated by all, but biologically essential. I expect an update on the village when you’ve returned,” Sheng instructed before running out of the room to aid and comfort the being that was supposed to one day give birth to their savior.
The dawn was breakingover the horizon now, purple and orange painting the sky as sun rays illuminated Waihema before him. The girl, Hadley, was special, he hated to admit. Her wings were something he had never seen before, like those of a glass-winged butterfly.
Amis shuddered, dew on long grass touching his ankles as he trampled down the pathway further into the village. He was feared here, in control, which was the opposite of how he usually felt. Fear, flight, and nightmares clouded his mind from being constantly surrounded by his natural predator, the two working hand in hand.
A small child ran out from a hut onto the pathway ahead with the determination to collect loose stones and rocks. An older sibling ran out to follow, laughing and bursting with new energy from their slumbers. The older child, a boy around six or seven years old, stopped mid-motion, noticing Amis. His eyes were wide, and he turned back to the hut to yell for help, for protection.
