There was one truth everyone in the palace knew – its stone walls were too thin to keep secrets.
And whoever’s duty had brought them to the eastern wing that night – be it a maid or a guard – had seen it:
White wings that obscured the stars, carrying two shadows under the round face of the moon.
And, of course, with the arrival of dawn, the whispers slithered through corridors like newly hatched serpents.
At the breakfast table, Lily sat still as Aunt Mirna watched her with a sharp, probing gaze.
“Is it true?” she asked, her voice quiet, cautious, as if she struggled to find the words. “Did you… fly with him?”
Lily didn’t reply immediately. Her fingers caressed the rim of her glass as she watched a shaft of sunlight break into a thousand colors against the cold crystal.
“I did,” she said at last.
Mirna froze, her jaw tightening. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.” Mirna gasped, fingers tapping against the table, quick and nervous. “If he makes a mistake, if you slip…”
“I won’t.” Lily looked up, her eyes calm. “Father wouldn’t let me.”
Jereh, who had been silent until then, leaned forward. “Foolishness.” He scoffed. “Fools, both of you. For you, I understand – you’re a child. But he…” He shook his head. “He should know better.” A pause. “Ilari don’t do these kinds of things for a reason. I don’t think it’s natural for them. I haven’t even seen them carry their own offspring past a certain age.”
Lily whipped him with a look, and immediately he realized his mistake. “Ten seas, girl, that’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” Lily replied dryly, stabbing her fork into a ball of grape on her plate like a trident. Metal clinked against porcelain. Jereh winced. “You meant Ilari children. Pure children,” she spat.
Mirna’s hand reached for Lily’s sleeve. “We only worry about you, darling. It’s not like Eirran has done it before. We fear… “
“You shouldn’t,” Lily cut her off. “He’s trained for it. You don’t understand… he can do it. He’s already proven it.”
Mirna and Jereh exchanged a glance. There was no childish defiance in her voice – only conviction.
“Even so,” Mirna whispered, “servants whisper. Such things tend to spread like wildfire.”
“I know.” Lily’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “I heard Meren and Tana whispering this morning in the kitchen.”
Jereh closed his eyes for a moment, as if praying for patience. “Lily… this isn’t a game. If word spreads that Eirran’s been carrying you through the sky, it could cause… “
Suddenly the door slammed wide open, and Evan burst in, eyes wide with excitement. “Is it true? You really flew?”
For the first time that morning, Lily smiled. Evan was the only one who seemed to understand the wonder of Eirran’s gift.
“Yes,” she said, grinning.
“What was it like?”
“Terrifying.” She bit her lip while her eyes blazed. “Amazing. Oh, you should’ve been there, Evan. Everything looks so beautifully small from up there.”
Evan stared at her, nearly green with envy. “Will you do it again? Will he take you?”
Before she could answer, Mirna stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone floor. “Evan. This is not the time for your curiosity. This is serious.”
“I know it’s serious!” Evan waved a hand, impatient. “But it’s incredible! Eirran’s the first Ilar I’ve heard of to even try such a thing! Don’t you see? This is… “
” …madness,” Jereh cut him off coldly. “And recklessness.”
Lily pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to continue arguing. She didn’t want to hear again that it was dangerous, impossible, forbidden.
Because she now knew what the sky felt like. It was like coming home.
And she wasn’t ready to give that up.
Keth waited in silence while Eirran sifted through parchments, pretending to be absorbed in his work. But, as always, Keth knew better.
“They’re whispering all over the palace,” he said at last.
Eirran didn’t look up. “I know.”
“What will you do?”
Eirran set the quill down slowly. “What can I do, Keth? Forbid people to talk?”
“Maybe you should reconsider continuing.”
Eirran’s dark eyes lifted, gaze full of shards.
Keth didn’t flinch. “You know what they’ll say. That you put yourself in danger. That you defied not just scripture, but the natural order itself. That…”
“…that I’m insane.” Eirran rose, stretching his back, and rolling his left shoulder, still sore from the night’s flight. “But I’ve never stopped doing something just because others thought it was impossible.”
Keth sighed. “If you persist in doing this, perhaps it would be wise to increase caution.”
Eirran paused, then nodded. “All right. What do you suggest?”
“If you insist on flying at night,” Keth crossed his arms, “use the northern wing instead of eastern. The rooftop terrace there is hidden from most eyes. I’ll make sure no one wanders too close. Although if one sets their mind to see you, they will. I can’t obscure the sky.”
Eirran studied him for a long moment, then his eyes glinted with a small smile. “Thank you.”
Keth shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Just… don’t break yourself. You can’t drop her.”
Eirran didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
Both of them knew he’d rather die than let her fall.
Lily waited in her room every night.
Even as the whispers grew louder.
Even as Mirna and Jereh watched her with unease.
Even as Evan begged for every detail, eyes bright with wonder.
She waited.
And when, finally, the door opened quietly and she saw Eirran standing in half-shadow on the threshold, her heart leapt.
He smiled and handed her a woolen cloak.
After that, he’d flown her whenever he could. Always from a northern wing, always at night.
And so arrived the night that was deeper and darker than the rest, devoid of moon. Free from its dim glow, the endless web of stars glittered like diamond dust. Eirran stood at the edge of the terrace, stretching his shoulders, wings, and back. Lily was already waiting, her small hands wrapped tightly around their rope – though now without fear, without the trembling that had frozen her the first time.
“Ready?” he asked, and she simply nodded, the eyes he’d given her shining with anticipation.
As time passed, and the more he flew with her, Eirran noticed that his body was slowly, painfully adapting. The strain was still there – his joints still protested the unnatural shift of balance – but his movements had become reflexes, slowly seeping into his bones.
And Lily had grown accustomed, too; her grip on him had gradually softened, now resembling an embrace rather than a hold for dear life.
The first beat of his wings was the strongest, because it had to be, but this time something odd happened.
He felt a minuscule, instantaneous adjustment of her body, her weight shifting forward toward him – as if she instinctively leaned into his natural center of balance.
Strange.
They flew slowly at first, gliding high above the palace, Eirran attuned to her every motion.
“Look down,” he whispered in her ear. She leaned forward – a little too far – but didn’t panic. Her hands didn’t clutch at his neck; she didn’t scream. Instead, her body moved back smoothly, correcting her posture like a bird adjusting to a change in the wind.
Eirran narrowed his eyes.
That wasn’t learned. That was innate.
He deliberately changed direction – a sharp turn to the left. Lily jerked slightly, but still didn’t cling to him. Her legs drew in, her hips did a half-rotation – her body balancing on its own.
“Do you know where we’re going?” he asked. She shook her head, eyes fixed on the horizon, on the map of stars – as if she could feel the way.
Eirran took a deep breath, fighting down the surge of exhilaration.
My blood. There’s no other explanation.
Then, overwhelmed by this revelation, he did something he had never dared before – he loosened his hold slightly, letting her weight hang for a heartbeat, letting her feel herself in the air.
Unbelievably, impossibly, her body rotated outward, shoulders drew back, her head tilted, spine straightened – as though her very bones understood the wind, understood how to fly.
It lasted only a heartbeat before the other instinct struck – the human one, the one that screamed: you have no wings, you are going to die!
She gasped – a short, sharp cry – and clutched at him, her legs clasping around his waist. The sudden movement threw him off balance, and for one dreadful moment they plunged.
Eirran reacted instantly – the reflex drilled into him from his days in the Antarrila – twisting, beating his wings hard, pain biting deep into his shoulders, the left one screaming in protest, until he steadied them again.
“It’s all right, Lily. Don’t be afraid,” he breathed, pulling her close, his hand finding her back. “I won’t let you fall.” His heart pounded wildly. “I’ll never let you fall.”
He repeated it – an oath to himself as well as to her, his mind reeling with the irrefutable truth: that instant before fear took over – his earthborn daughter had flown, as though she had always known how.
He swallowed hard, throat dry.
Though she had no wings, though her body was human – something in her knew.
It was impossible. Perhaps it was his imagination running wild.
When her grip eased, he tried again, gently, careful not to startle her – a tiniest tilt to the right, just enough to invite her body’s response.
And respond she did.
Her right leg moved forward, elbow bent, her body subtly aligning – as if seeking the balance of wings.
Eirran nearly froze midair. He wasn’t imagining it. It was real.
Her body understood flight – something that should have been impossible for anyone without wings.
“Lily,” he said softly, “how do you know how to move like that?”
She looked up at him, eyes wide with something more than joy – recognition, perhaps.
“I don’t know. It’s like… like I can feel how you’ll move before you do. I don’t think about it – it just happens. It’s like… when you used that voice to try to stop the Spiral – I didn’t understand it, but I felt it pulsing in my bones. I knew you were telling them to stop even though there were no words.”
Eirran felt his throat tighten.
There could be no doubt.
The blood remembers.
And if that was true, then everything they had ever been taught was a lie.
The earth that bore her wasn’t mud that smothered the light – it was soil that nourished it, made it bloom into something no one had ever thought possible.
And if Lily possessed this gift, then others like her likely did too. Except no one knew.
Ilari didn’t raise wingless children. Didn’t lift them into the sky.
But he had.
And in doing so – through love and pain – he’d unearthed a revelation that could shake the pillars of the world.
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