CHP27

Seneya withdrew her arm from Kael’s grasp. A skidded gash ran from her shoulder to her forearm. “Ow!” She’d fallen and slid again.

Kael’s hand slid over her wound, using what little healing magic he had to soothe it.

“Well, if you’d stop falling, this wouldn’t happen,” he snapped, wincing a little as her aura bit back at him. She saw how her aura of confusion bothered him, and he said her actions reminded him of painful memories. She withdrew into herself more.

“I’m doing the best that I can,” she whispered, and her eyes averted. She tightened her arms to her chest. Wearing the clothes of their kind, Seneya looked so childlike. Sael had brought dark greys and blacks for her like Kael dressed. She wore tightly bound leg wrappings and started learning how to knot them. Over that, she wore a skirtlike wrap, something like Kael wore with his ‘linens.’ She had something else that he called ‘bindings’ that looped around her chest in broad strips in a pattern that avoided touching her Ikris. She felt naked with those things on, but Kael showed her pictures in books he had, and with what he usually wore, she believed him. She was uncomfortable with it but growing more at ease.

Whatever the humans had done to her, she feared her own body.

“I apologize. I’m losing my patience with you, and I forget you’re just a child in ways.” Kael softened his stern expression and sighed as she inspected the gash.

Only pink shining new skin and the blood remained. Seneya ran her hand through her hair, the long tresses stretching past the reach of her fingertips, far longer than it had been days before.

“How often did you cut your hair before?” Kael asked as a knot tied in his stomach. She pulled the tip of her gathered hair around to stare at it.

“Every few months?” It hung past her waist and tangled in her wings.

He wanted to cut it for her, but a supreme disgust twisted in himself at the thought of severing it. Hair and wings were such delicate things.

“It didn’t grow like that before?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Recently started. Yours doesn’t?” She stared up with curiosity in her eyes. His hair had gotten a little longer since they met but not like hers. He shook his head, and she frowned.

“Where’d you put the knife. I’ll go cut it again.”

“Again?” Kael raised a brow.

“I took some off after Sael visited last because it kept catching in my wings. Is that bad?” She stared at him reproachfully, and he gazed at the spread of it. She’d knotted her hair tight that morning, but it had loosened in flight. The tail of her braid had tickled the nape of her tail.

He hadn’t noticed, and that ill-feeling still knotted in his belly.

He fished around his waistband and handed a knife to her. She gathered her hair over her shoulder and positioned the knife to lob it off at her neck when he stopped her. “Don’t do that,” he said, suddenly fearful for a moment and moved to her to run his fingers through it, noting the uneven ends from where she’d cut it last, and they did seem fresh. He tugged it loose and gathered her locks just above her wing joints, and slid the knife in a quick gesture. He went back and gathered her hair before shaving at the ends of it a bit and let it fan out.

“There, as even as it needs be,” He said before handing her the gathered handful of hair he’d removed.

He held out about a foot of hair in his hand, and she took it curiously.

“Toss it in the fireplace, so it doesn’t burn anything,” Kael muttered.

“That’s what I did with the last. It burns?”

“Mana does that,” Kael shrugged. She still stared at the hair in her hand.

“With all that I should be….” She twisted her lips, confused for a moment.

“Be what, little starling?”

“I don’t know the word. Without hair?”

“Hairless?” Kael wrinkled his nose. She made a gesture at the top of her head.

“Like shiny hairless here.” An English word trembled on her lips, but she wouldn’t use it. She said it tasted bad on her tongue. The pain in her eyes when she tried to speak hurt him to see. Kael wondered if he taught her how to use her mana to share memories and thoughts if she’d ever feel close enough to him to do it. Maybe if they knew one another’s pain, it’d help.

“Bald?” He asked her in plain English for her. She nodded.

“Okay, yeah, that’s the same as hairless,” he said, swapping back to Acerrai.

“Yes! With this much hair gone, I should be bald!” Her voice had more thrill in it now, like she was excited to learn a new word.

“You know. You’re getting better at keeping your wings down. So let’s say we go get a drink, and I show you how I get money.” Kael grinned wide at her. She’d seen him leave at night once or twice and come home a little tipsy and in a good mood.

She’d expressed interest in a beer before, but he told her a beer could do little for her. Even still, the grain in it made it a bad idea. Nevertheless, he’d tasted it before and not been able to get the flavor from his mouth for a week.

Despite her shortcomings, the new diet suited her well. She’d gotten an inch or so of height on her, and the general ‘scrawn’ he had known her to have, started filling out in the ways their women did, her jawline slimming, arms and legs toning. Her back and core showed hints of definition from flying. With a good run, she could take off on her own, now, not quite a leap yet. But, Kael could knock her down easily. If she could make this much progress in six weeks, he anticipated seeing her in six months. Just the transformation she’d made so far was its own reward.

She tilted her head and raised a brow. The silence spoke volumes with her, and she waited for his retort.

“Come on, this town has a lot of Enai and humans that aren’t that smart.” Kael tapped his head. “Now draw your wings in, and we’ll go.”

She slipped her wings and tail away obediently. Then, she reached for her head to tug at her ears that stuck a bit out of her hair.

“You know, I don’t think they notice it. Just cover it up with your hair a bit, and nobody says anything. Just keep to English unless it’s important.” Kael smoothed a hand over her head affectionately.

Seneya didn’t look forward to dealing with humans, not since she’d run away. Her aura flicked, and Kael cleared his throat to remind her to stifle it.

“Why do you not like to speak, little starling? Your voice is not sour. I enjoy it when you speak. English is no different from any other language. You spoke it all your life.”

She pursed her lips and sighed heavily. Her eyes searched, mouth opened, like words lay in wait, wanting to spring forth.

“Spit it out, or I’m tossing you again,” Kael said as he grabbed and hoisted her over his shoulder. Her wings burst free of her back, and Kael dropped her surreptitiously as his own wings exploded forth. He stared at her with wide-eyed concern, buckling to his knees. “Okay, that’s not….” Kael stepped back.

“THERE’S NO MUSIC IN IT,” she shouted, words spilling forth in a tumble. He took a few calming breaths and got his wings to slide back into himself. She must have been feeling something strong to elicit that response from him.

Kael had to be stronger than her, being far older, bigger; he had control of his fires.

“Music? There’s no music? What do you mean by music?” Kael said as she struggled to get her wings back in, her aura peaking.

“There’s no song, no melody, no mana or fire in words. They’re dead, and they taste dead,” she said, trying to find the words, and the faster she spoke, the more fluent she sounded.

Kael’s eyes widened as her speech went clear as a bell, and in her voice, he could hear the song of their words. He felt so proud of her and worried for her at the same time, but it didn’t falter him for a moment as he stepped forward slowly. His arms opened a little, and he captured her between them to draw her against his chest. He leaned down to put his chin atop her head, and she froze there against him. Instinct within Kael had him wrapping his wings over his shoulder to cover them both as they made a soft rustling noise, an instinctual thing that had her aura ebbing down as he did so.

He'd done this so many times for Sael as a child.

“Shh, it’s not music; It’s the song that makes our mana. You need that now.” Kael lulled quietly as he petted gently over her hair.

“Song?” Her voice wavered, but her wings shook to the point of rustling, and he tightened his wings down to press hers to her back. Her hot breath and tears permeated the shirt he wore.

“The words we speak are Acerrai. Our people took the seraph’s dialect when we came to this world so long ago. The seraphs didn’t speak until they broke from the choir. They sang, and so too our language is pieces of the song.”

“And what is Anael? The song is there, but it’s bitter. Why do I need this song?” Her lips pursed tight as she buried her face in his chest and inhaled deeply, taking the scent of him in. He became her calm, the only center she knew.

She loved the smell of his ault, and as he kept his wings over her, he encased her in it, soothed her by it. His sweet earthen spice smell could be offensive to some, but she accepted it so readily. That smell, to her, meant ‘home.’ something she’d never had before.

“The Anael did not sing. They only heard the song, so their copy of it is a shadow of our own. Our tongue, our magic, our song is strong in our hearts. You don’t have the mana in you yet, and you’re craving it. English comes to you like their food did, with the promise of bitterness and pain.” His large hands tightened around her and patted down the back of her head. He peered down at her shaking wings and the sheet of hair that he’d just shorn from her.

“Now tuck your wings, little starling. You don’t have to speak if you want, and I will keep the song with you. Now go get clothes on. Sael sent some pants and shirts in that pile of stuff, I’m certain.” Kael sighed in relief as her wings finally slid away. Not since he had been a little boy did someone drawing their wings before him trigger his own response. Seneya had to be strong, and he wanted to find out how strong.

She pulled from him hesitantly and averted her eyes, rubbing at them with her fist. Her aura reduced, but so did something else he couldn’t explain, like part of herself withdrew with it.

“Come, little starling. I’ll go sit in the kitchen and keep talking to you. I want you to meet the Enai. They have magic in them, you remember? Talking to them won’t hurt.”

“Kael, when I hear you speak English, it feels so bad.” Her arms crossed her chest again, holding to herself.

She could almost pass for a little phoenix girl, save for those eyes.

“You’re starved for mana and magic. It’s not words. I promise it’ll feel better.” Kael gave her a half-smile and folded himself into a chair as she went to the living room to dig through her clothes. They lay in a neat pile inside a small chest that she’d salvaged from his storage closet. She kept everything neat and tidy and made an improvement in his life.

Over her linens, she slid a pair of fitted dark wash jeans. Their stretch highlighted the change in her musculature, and she wished she had a mirror to look at herself. For a top, she found a loose tank top, black with silver floral décor around the neckline. She slid it over and rummaged through for a bundle of leather strands that she used to pull her hair back and tie at the nape of her neck. She tucked her ears into her hair and slipped on a pair of leather boots that were a little large on her feet. She’d not worn human clothes in a while. The fabric of the tank top dusted gently over her ikris and sent strange sensations through her flesh. It had that weird not-quite-pain sensation like when she changed the part in her hair. It made her hairs stand on end.

She strode into the room, and her eyes fixed on him. He glanced over her with a soft grin. Her dark-rimmed eyes filled with reproach.

“You going to be okay?” His hand reached out to her bare shoulder and he searched over her scarred skin and spattered freckles. He wondered what she’d do if he gave her tatsuli, what she’d pick for her flesh.

She nodded with a sharp jerk of her head, hesitating. Kael could work with that. He knew the moment that she walked among the Enai that she’d feel so much better.

Seneya had not been far past the creek surrounding their property. He limited her daily strolls to the glade, the creek, and the close environs for flight. She felt naked without her wings and lagged behind Kael, who extended a hand behind himself to beckon her closer. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “Maybe I should tell you a story while we walk.”

Seneya loved stories and especially loved the ones that her spirit had told her. She found delight in them and remembered the boy that had helped her onto her second train, Troi, she believed. He knew things from her stories. He turned his head over his shoulder and saw her unbroken attention focused on him.

“I take that as a yes, then?”

“Ea!”

A wide grin sprawled across his lips as he tilted his head up to the sky. He thought about it a moment.

“Should I tell you how the Enai were first made? Of course, the stories differ between the tribes, but I like the Acerraien version best.”

She stumbled as they hit the edge of the creek. Kael took off on a jog and jumped, crossing the space of it with ease. Seneya had to get a running start, but she kicked off and got enough air just to barely make it to the bank. Her shoes splashed in the water, and Kael’s arm reached to correct her balance.

“Doing better.”

“Story!”

Kael laughed hard. That glorious curiosity enraptured him every time. “Alright!”

In the beginning, when the ancient ones fell to earth, they were hundreds of the creator’s abandoned children crying skyward, reaching out for their sire’s grace.

“Sire?”

“Parent, gender-neutral.” Kael gave her the English words for it, and she nodded emphatically.

Their sire did not answer, but their cries were heeded by the primitives of this world, the humans that crawled on the ground. They were weak and superstitious things looking for something greater. The ancient ones had been jealous of them but saw that though they were born into all the wonders the creator had made, they knew not of the creator.

So there they were, the children of the creator, stranded on this world that lacked the creator’s presence. If they thought they knew silence or darkness before, they wept for it now.

Among those first fallen was the seraph, who called himself of the void, for he was wrought of the echoing darkness. He is the great seraph father of my line, the first Afryth. He blessed my line with the seraph’s mark, our tail.

“Is that how I got my tail from him?”

Kael toyed with his lips a moment as he twisted them in thought. “Not entirely likely. There were two seraphs, and the Phoenix got their tails from the seraph of light. So you’re—”

“Sai’s?”

Saying that name made her pause, looking at the ground. Her vision went pearlescent, obfuscated, and everything went dim; barest motes of light let her see vague shapes. It caught her off guard, and she stumbled in her step.

“Yes, actually. Watch out!” He snatched his out to catch her arm and kept her from falling.

“Sorry.”

“Clumsy today, yes? We’ll work on balance later.” Kael nodded to himself and continued on his way.

In those days, the ancient ones fell from the sky, quite literally. They were broken, all of them, surrounded by creatures that were so much less than them. Where Vrahiel fell, he was separated from us all, the first fallen. The fall wasn’t instant; it took months. It was an instant to them, but when time caught up, Vrahiel had been surrounded by people and revered as a god in his land. He learned their language as best he could as they worshiped him.

He named himself Afryth, for he was of rage, and chose that as our title. What they don’t tell you of the seraphim is that when they were first fallen, in their first life, they were—

“Blind.” Seneya reached a hand out for his wrist and held on with her pinkie hooked onto one of his fingers. His head turned, and eyes cast down to the gentle tug.

“Yes… You’ve heard this story?”

“Parts of it.” She remembered the story, but never Sohken telling her.

“That spirit ruined my fun.” Kael ruffled her hair gently.

“I’m listening!” She tugged insistently on his hand once more.

“Alright!”

So the seraphs were blind; Vrahiel was blind. Only in the brightest light could he see things because he was born of the void but existed in the brightest light of the creator.

So the humans… He’d never seen such pitiable creatures—wingless, fireless, manaless. Now, he said he did so out of spite, but truly I think Vrahiel had some pity in himself, but he declared that the creator had made flawed beings. He tried to give them his mana, but you’ve seen what our fires can do. You can imagine how many he killed trying.

So, the rumor is that a woman with child came to him, sick of some disease. She pleaded for the life of her child.

“Afryth!” She cried,” It was the height of day, sunlight brightest. He loved the sun, one of the few things he found joy in. He looked down at the woman, head tilting with confusion. How could she have a child? Had she made life? She, a simple human female, a creature, capable of creation? She pleaded for the life of her child, not for herself.

“If I am to save this child, why do you wish to not be there? Why do you want to abandon your child as so?” Vrahiel didn’t understand. Why would she choose to abandon her child? He couldn’t understand wanting to only save the one.

“Why not save both of you? Why not ask me to do that?”

“If you can only save one. Save my baby.”

“But not save both?”

She perplexed him but knew not what he could do to save such a child. He reached for the woman, a new fire within him. Something was born of himself, pity? Sadness? He touched her, and she was healed of her sickness. He’d sought to destroy, break, and rid the world of this that the creator had made. And there he was, healing a creature.

He sent her away from him.

Seeing that he saved her and her unborn child, the woman dedicated herself to him as a servant. She cared for him, her, a creator of life, so eager to please and serve him.

They had a practice at the time in those lands, the blood of a tiger to give strength, its teeth, fur, and bones to treat ailments. So Vrahiel argued that if you could ingest the blood of a tiger to make you stronger, then you could take the blood of a seraph and be so!

And so, he allowed her a tiny bit of his blood, just a trickle, the creator’s ink ran strong through his veins. From this woman, a king was born, one with golden eyes, and he amused the seraphim. The woman let him name the child, and he was enamored by it. So he called him Esekiel, of my blood. The boy was strong, and there was a delight with our great father in gifting ill women with child the health and protection of his blood.

Even into the fall, his empire, and the war, he watched over his protected ones. And it came a time when Esekiel stood tall and declared himself a man, experienced his first thoughts of pride and defiance, and from his first cry, a bird came from the sky, a raven!

The bird announced itself, called its true name to him, Nirvra! He taught the boy the seraph's tongue, named him king, and taught him great magic. From the Cerraien, the two-winged kindred, Vrahiel made them choose their women, gifting them with blood, a drop, no more. They declared that those with the strongest birds, the speaking, and the powerful were those of nobility and war. Those with common birds, born from less of the seraph's blood, those who received only a drop, for Vrahe did not want to create a child stronger than his Esekiel. He gifted blood for him, for servants and people to rule, only those of sick mothers, only those that were broken, only those that begged for the gift for their child.

In exchange for their salvaged lives, the Enai now praise their Seraph master and honor the Cerraien and Seraphim in all things. And so they created, and so shall we prosper from all that our servants give us.

“Wait, so, your people make the Enai?” Seneya searched around the trees towering about them. They took a memorized path, winding about.

“No. They make themselves nowadays; humans breed fast. Did we make the first? Some. The Anael made some of their own, before the Phoenix, your people.”

“So, you can’t make anymore?”

Kael shook his head. “That secret died out with the Seraphim.” He wanted to say something, but he quieted and let his eyes drift off towards the light. Seneya had an image in her head, once more, of a cut across her palm.

She stumbled along with Kael as they crested a hill and could see the bright lights and loping streets of the small town below. “Did Sai make any?”

“Funny you should say that. She was one of the only fallen who didn’t. She healed the sick, but none of the children borne of her blood showed any sign of the gift right away. Occasionally, her blood crops up in a human, and it activates, so Enai are always on the lookout for kids that show powers.”

“Strange.”

Kael tilted his head left and right. “I mean. Every Enai Royal on earth today follows a king borne of Esekiel’s bloodline.”

“The other kingdoms are okay with that?”

Kael shrugged, “They have their loyalties. As long as the Cerraien are cared for, you know?”

Seneya nodded. She understood as best as she could. Time would fill in the gaps for her, though.