Kiromir 100

The days after Niala left blurred by.

Gaffriel showed us the new rough light, said they called it coarselight. Being able to travel alone and more than once was a feat we’d only dreamed of, and to think he’d been hiding and developing it behind our backs for so long. Tying her language to it…

“It’s even stronger when she’s around, though. So much mana….” Gaffriel said as he showed me.

All of our excitement came to an abrupt halt as Sentinel guards shouted, “WINGS FROM THE EAST!”

Dark wings came wafting in on the sky.

Within a few hours of Niala leaving, soldiers from her homeland arrived, cordoning off the songbird lands with their fierce magic. I thought we’d be at war with them, too, but with Revik as an intermediary, we stood a chance.

“This is good, Kiromir. Just be as honest and upfront as possible,” Revik said, all emotion drained from his voice.

“The enai are coming,” a violet-eyed young woman announced in warning as Sorrin and I gathered.

“Easterlies, right, Myria?” Revik thought to ask. She made lingering eye contact with him and nodded before brushing thin black hair from her face.

I reached out to catch Revik’s attention, but he ran off again.

“Enai? Easterlies?” I asked, looking towards Sorrin with a raised brow. “Birds?” That was our closest word to it.

“No, Enai. They are humans with our magic. Keep in English for them, please. You’re in their kingdom, the Easterlies.” Myria said, meeting my eyes, only tilting her gaze a fraction of an inch up. I was so used to looking down to speak to women that having eyes so close to mine felt weird.

“Humans are coming here!?” Sorrin pushed forward, eyes wild in panic as Myria held her hands out to calm him.

“They’re part of us. You will get used to them. These are special humans,” She said patiently. Sorrin fretted anxiously until they started coming in, walking straight through the boundaries like nothing at all, shrugging off our magic.

The humans were the best and worst of it. They practically worshipped us. Though we looked nothing like their tall, lean, and fierce masters, dark of wing and hair, they flocked to us with joy. The Enai humans delighted in our children like they’d never seen one before.

“We don’t usually talk to the Enai,” Revik told me, laughing.

“We…” I said back to him, and Revik shrugged.

“Cerraien, all of us twin-winged creatures.” Revik pantomimed his hands.

“I think this is a reward for our Enai. Talking to them is difficult sometimes, for we’re so different… Your kind relates to them so well.”

Nodak came bustling up, Lizer and Krell in tow as he gazed about at the dignitaries. Thanus came jogging up behind from the direction of our tents.

“Dude, they all look like Niala,” Nodak said. I had to punch him to shut him up.

“Is that racist?” Krell asked.

“I don’t know. Are we a race?” Nodak seemed confused.

“Rolyn seemed to think so,” Thanus grumbled.

“Guys!” I barked, glaring at all of them as they shirked back.

Myria fell out in peels of laughter, which bode well for us over the days.

“Your questions are so funny!”

We kept having snafus with rude questions. They laughed at us, luckily. Thanus asked if they had tails like Niala, and they quickly came to realize that we didn’t know who and what she was. They knew we tried. That was enough, it seemed. They were simultaneously disgusted and delighted by our lifestyle and worked with us to retrieve the other wildlings that wanted to come with us. I felt like I had no control over my flock. We all felt like children being shuffled around, and when I finally threw my weight in for authority… they listened.

From their perspective, we were children, though—prime examples of mana starvation. Of course, the Songbirds were better than the rest of us, but their healers were having a field day looking at our children and us.

We were all starved for mana.

We learned a lot through the Enai and the others that joined us, different nations; the Acerrai, the Anael and the Phoenix.

I hated looking at the Acerrai. Their dark wings, bright eyes, and features all reminded me of Niala. They brought me word of her, and Revik brought me letters.

We sat among the picnic tables, surrounded by tents that served as an office for us in those days.

“Reminds me of war. Wish Niala was here to see all this. Have you met her?” I asked Myria.

She ran her hand along the sun-weathered wood and smiled. She looked so winter-fair in the summer sun.

“The princess is so adorable and ‘miniature,’” She told me, laughing. “I see so much of you in her.” Dark circles settled under her eyes. Our time difference from their lands kept her in a perpetual state of exhaustion, and it didn’t help our lack of mana. It made them tired faster.

I beamed, but she twisted her lips, “But I see a lot of her father, for better or worse… and other family members.” She sighed, and I wanted to know more, but she changed the subject quickly.

“We don’t talk of her father.” Myria told me, “Sael Afryth did not leave a good memory behind with our people, but Niala is so well received.”

They said we could visit Niala soon, but not when. I knew her terrible handwriting, her snarky words, and subjective language. One day, though, they promised she’d come back.

Gaffriel’s health concerned me more at the moment, though. Dark determination and anger filled the places that his puppy love for Niala left empty.

All in all, though, I thought things might just be okay. I held a stack of letters in my hand and smiled. She was still my little girl, always and forever.

Niala belonged to the Wildlings.