The leaves on the cherry trees in the palace gardens drifted on the breath of cool autumn breeze, covering the ground like yellow and brown whispers.
The fresh scent of citrus had thickened into harsher scents of wood burning in the hearths. The air smelled faintly of rain – though the sky was still clear on most days – and the shadows beneath great terraces now seemed to stretch longer.
Autumns, and winters in Astochia were a soft balm comparing to the harsh sting of Selavetian cold season, but the northern winds that descended from distant mountains carried bite that made one pull their cloaks tighter.
Lily sat on her favorite bench by the fountain, her palms pressed against its edge. Water whispered softly in the basin beside her, catching the last strands of sunlight before they dissipated in ripples. She had been waiting there for some time, pretending to study the play of light on the surface, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Something was wrong.
She had known it since the evening Keth had brought the letter, the look on his face paler than usual.
The air around her father had changed since, although he still carried himself the same, except now there was an additional layer – something quiet, measured, yet heavy, like the oppressive thickening of air that comes before a storm. He had smiled at her, as always, but it had been the kind of smile she would use when she wanted to stop people from asking deeper questions. That is why she waited.
She sat by the fountain like she did almost every day, in the place visible from his study window.
She wanted him to tell her himself.
Finally, he appeared. His shadow fell long across the courtyard as he landed, folding down his wings.
“Lily,” he called softly.
She turned to him, and her heart fluttered, torn between happiness and dread. She eyed him, noticing faint lines beneath his eyes. “You look a bit tired.”
Eirran smiled, half-heartedly. “Perhaps I am, a little.”
He sat beside her. The stone was cold even through the thin cloth of his lliath, and for a long moment neither of them spoke. Only the fountain broke the silence, its murmur slow and unyielding.
At last he said, “My mother is coming. Your… Grandmother.” The word came out half-stuck on his tongue.
Lily’s fingers stilled on her lap. “Your mother,” she repeated quietly. “Fariah? That’s her name, right?”
He nodded. “She’ll arrive before the week’s end.”
There was something deliberate in his tone, and that heavy restraint told her more than any confession ever could. She turned, searching his face.
“Why?”
Eirran hesitated. “I don’t know.”
Lily’s eyes narrowed slightly. “But you guess.”
He sighed – the soft kind of sigh that carried both resignation and affection. “Yes, I can guess.”
“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
She waited, gaze unwavering.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his wings drawing slightly inward as though bracing against the evening wind. “Fariah is… devoted,” he said carefully. “She believes deeply in the old doctrine.”
Lily looked at him for a long time, then spoke with quiet clarity. “She’ll hate me.”
Eirran’s head turned sharply. “Lily…”
“She will,” she insisted, not with anger but with a simple, weary certainty.
“Hate,” he said after a pause, “is a strong word. Too often it’s born from ignorance, or fear.”
“Aunt Mirna says as much. But it still hurts the same,” Lily sighed.
He didn’t contradict her. His silence said enough.
Lily turned her eyes back to the fountain, where small red and yellow leaves swirled and drowned.
“It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to,” she said at last. “If people hate me.”
Eirran looked at her, startled by the calm in her voice.
“I have people who love me,” she continued. “Aunt Mirna, Uncle Jereh, Evan… and you.”
His throat tightened at the last words.
“And besides,” she added, a faint smile touching her lips, “I have something no one else has. I’ve felt the sky. In here.” She touched her chest and looked at him. “You gave me that. You gave me the sky. I’ll never forget it.”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. Something inside him ached with fierce tenderness – and with it, the familiar pain, the one that came each time he remembered the truth she didn’t yet fully comprehend.
He managed a small smile. “The sky was always yours, Lily. I only carried you there.”
She smiled back, warm as sunlight. “Still. You’re the only one who would.”
Without thinking, he reached out and drew her closer. His arm wrapped gently around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, resting her head below his neck. His wing unfolded, arching over her head like a white canopy. Not a single feather touching, yet it chased away the sting of late autumn breeze.
They sat like that for a long while, just watching the water and listening to fountain’s whisper filling the silence under gathering dusk.
Of course, as good as she was reading her father, Evan was even better at reading her. He dropped beside her as she sat beneath the lemon tree next afternoon, pretending to read a book.
“Alright. What’s with you again?”
She shrugged. “What do you mean? I’m reading. Or trying to.” She gave him a wry look.
“No, you’re not.” He said, confident. “You’re somewhere else.”
She kept her eyes on the page. “I’m here.”
“You’re not.” A beat. “Is it about what he told you?”
Lily’s throat tightened. She turned a leaf and found the same line twice. “Father’s…Eirran’s mother is coming.”
Evan’s eyebrows rose, then drew together. “The one with the name that sounds like a whip?”
“Fariah,” she said, and the word felt sour. “She’s… devout.”
Evan studied her face, the press of her mouth, the way her fingers rubbed the page margin. “And she scares you.”
“Yes,” Lily admitted, and the frankness of it surprised even her. “She’ll hate me.”
Evan blinked, his shoulders set straight. “Eirran won’t let her hurt you.”
Lily remained quiet, eyes on the page.
Evan’s mouth opened, closed; for once he didn’t try to soften the blow. He looked toward the palace walls. “Then we should go somewhere to forget about it for awhile. I know just a place.”
She gave him a wry glance. “We went to your ‘place’ during the summer. I nearly cut my foot on the rocks.”
“This is different.” He leaned closer, excitement warming his voice. “Beyond the northern hill, past the old quarry. There’s a spring. The water is hot even when it’s cold outside. The air above it is so warm, it makes the stones sweat. It smells like – well, like the smithy near the docks, but better.” He grimaced. “Not better, actually. Weirder. You’ll see.”
Lily looked up at the pale sky. Somewhere beyond it, a woman that was her grandmother was coming like a gathering storm. “It’s nearly winter,” she said softly. “I don’t want to go back to the palace dripping and cold.”
“You won’t,” he promised. “The air there is warm. It clings to you like a blanket. You’ll forget the cold as soon as you step into the mist.”
A tray clattered somewhere in the kitchens. A woman’s voice swore.
“How far is it?” Lily asked.
“Not too far. Three quarters of an hour walk perhaps. Half and hour if we’re quick.”
She closed the book, paused, suddenly remembering something. “What about the guards? Ever since we did you-know-what, Father has increased the guard in the south and east wing. He thinks I haven’t noticed. But I have.”
Evan nodded, a bit grim. “You’re right. I thought Rahl visited the kitchens more often than usual. I thought it was because of Tana’s honeycakes.”
Lily chuckled. “He does, probably. Only now he has an excuse.”
They both laughed, sharp like glass. A sparrow rustled on the branch above, then flew away.
“So what are we going to do?”
Evan waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I know a way out of the palace out of guards’ sight. Ilari don’t pass there, it’s too narrow – only for the servants.” He waited for Lily to nod. “Alright, it’s settled. Tommorow afternoon. After learning.” He said, already planning, already mapping the corridors with his eyes.
And as if the heavens themselves had heard them, the next day the sky was unusually clear, earth bathed in golden warmth.
Slipping out of the palace was easier than Lily had imagined – and still dangerous enough to make her heart beat faster. Evan led her through narrow servant corridors even she had never noticed before: a passage behind the kitchens, dark and smelling faintly of moss.
“Here,” Evan said, pointing to a small wooden door used by servants. “Through this. Just don’t rattle the latch.”
The fields beyond the walls spread in hues of evergreen, yellow and brown. A gull screeched as it flew overhead, towards the shore. Evan set a brisk pace she was struggling to match in her dress. He led them away from the main paths and into the forest, and she followed him as he cut through the thick foliage.
Lily smelled it before she saw it: a sharp, metal heat. A cloud of mist drifted above the hollow below, and beyond it a large basin opened wide, cupped by black rock. The spring itself murmured in a chorus of deep voices. As she stepped closer, the warm air enveloped her in comfort.
Evan spread his arms in a victorious gesture. “See? Even Ilari don’t know all the world’s secrets.”
She had no answer for that. She went to the rim and crouched, hand outstretched. The heat took her palm in a warm welcome.
They shed the formalities of the palace – boots were first to go, and laughter to arrive. Evan waded in with the shameless delight of someone born to water regardless of the season. Lily shrugged out of her heavy outer dress, leaving tunic and trousers beneath and stepped carefully in the water. The heat wrapped her knees, her waist, her ribs; steam lifted from her skin and her hair curled in the mist. The world beyond the pool was suddenly very far away. She lay back and the surface took her weight. Above, the last leaves flickered like slow birds, and a strip of sky between the branches painted the perfect blue.
“Better?” Evan asked, chin on the rim, eyes on her face.
“Better,” she said, and felt the word move through her like a warm current.
Evan swam beside her, laughing, and then pointed toward a tall rock that jutted above the pool.
“Jump!” he shouted, voice echoing off the stone walls.
Lily didn’t think twice. She climbed, feeling the rough stone beneath her bare feet, every ridge and groove alive against her skin. She stood at the edge, her heart beating not with fear but with exhilaration – the same wild thrill she’d felt when Eirran took her flying for the first time. She closed her eyes and leapt, body twisting in the air in a perfect arc, arms spread like wings she had never possessed yet somehow remembered.
The water hit her like glass, but when she surfaced, Evan was staring at her, wide-eyed with disbelief.
“How did you do that?” he gasped.
Lily shrugged, water streaming down her back. “I don’t know. I just… knew how.”
Evan splashed at her, laughing. “No way! You cheated – that was too perfect!”
Then, grinning, he dove like an otter and caught her ankle, pulling her under with a burst of bubbles. She shrieked in surprise and retaliated, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him downward, both of them laughing so hard that their lungs burned but neither willing to give up.
When they finally surfaced, Evan spat a fountain of water into the air, and Lily splashed him back with enough force that droplets reached the shore – where Eirran stood, arms crossed in front of his chest and stern look in his eyes.
Both children froze.
They hadn’t even seen him land.
Eirran’s wings twitched with tension. Back at the palace he’d asked for Lily, and upon realizing she was nowhere to be found, his mind filled with worst thoughts imaginable. He’d ordered a wide search, and launched himself into the air, flying over the web of city streets before venturing outwards, to forests and plains. He’d found them by sheer luck, having heard squeals and laughter over the place that shouldn’t house human sounds, even before his eyes caught the sight of them, lost in joy.
He landed and waited for them to notice – not with anger, but with surprise. Ilari did not swim. Ilari did not play in water. Wet wings meant death.
But Lily and Evan were not Ilari.
“Lily,” he said, breaking their startled freeze, voice gentle yet edged with solemnity.
Evan nearly slipped on the wet rock, catching himself just in time.
“Venn Eirran!” he yelped. “We were just – “
“I know what you were ‘just’,” Eirran interrupted, raising a hand. “You left the palace without a word.” His gaze found Lily, standing knee-deep in the water, trembling from cold – and guilt. “The whole palace is in chaos. I thought you were…”
He stopped. His throat refused the next word.
Lily stared at the ripples around her knees. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d worry.”
Eirran exhaled and knelt until his eyes met hers. “Lily, I’ll always worry. That’s what fathers do.”
Her wet lashes lifted. “But it wasn’t dangerous! Evan showed me the way and…”
“I know it wasn’t dangerous today,” he said softly. “But what if someone had seen you? What if they’d followed you?”
Evan’s smile faltered. “Oh. Right. I… didn’t think of that.”
Eirran glanced at him, then smiled faintly despite himself. “I don’t doubt it.”
Lily scooped a handful of water and let it spill through her fingers. “But it’s so beautiful here. Can’t you feel it?” She held her hand toward him, droplets glittering like small stars. “Come in!”
Eirran looked from her to the pool, then to his wings. “Lily… I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because Ilari aren’t made for water,” he said gently. “These,” he spread one wing “, become too heavy when wet. I’d sink like a stone.”
Her face fell, then brightened with sudden determination. “Then we’ll find a way! Maybe some kind of float? Or…”
Eirran laughed and brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. “Maybe someday.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Not maybe. I will.”
Evan grinned. “See? She doesn’t give up.”
“I’ve noticed,” Eirran said dryly.
Lily suddenly splashed out of the water, caught his hand, and tugged him toward the edge. “Until then – look what I can already do!”
Before he could answer, she pushed off again, diving into the pool like an arrow. Evan followed, and for a while they showed off their dives and spins, laughing as sunlight broke into golden ripples around them.
Eirran stood on the dark stone bank, watching, his heart heavy with a mix of sorrow and wonder.
His kind had always looked down on humans. Yet here was Evan, strong and tireless, his human frame built for endurance. And Lily…
She was something else entirely.
A living proof that children of earth and sky were not weaker. Only different. And perhaps, in some ways, even greater.
He watched her twist through the water, her movements smooth as flight. Every turn, every dive carried an instinct too precise, and too intimate with her surroundings to be coincidence. It was Ilari aerial grace and acute awareness of space reborn in another element.
Her blood remembered flight and used that memory to forge something new. The light in her had bloomed to let her fly without wings. To understand the concept of movement that was utterly incomprehensible to humans, and was the source of Ilari physical supremacy.
He knew that what he was watching was only a raw, untapped spark.
And yet … It was magnificent.
If the others like her possesed this spark, the possibilities were endless – and all equally beautiful in their terrifying potential.
Eirran’s chest tightened.
In that moment he understood more than any scripture had ever taught him – about his people, their blindness, their fear.
And as he watched Lily laugh, water streaming down her face, he felt a sudden, fierce surge of pride.
Not only because she was his, although a small, selfish part of him glistened in glee.
But because she was a part of something old, yet in this revelation entirely new.
A dawn to the world that still slept in darkness.
“See?” Lily gasped as she swam back to him. “I can do all this because I’m human. That’s not bad, is it?”
Eirran bowed his head and, for the first time that day, smiled fully. “No, Lily. Not bad at all.”
Evan climbed out, shaking himself like a dog. “First one back to the palace wins!” He shouted, already darting toward the path.
“Unfair! You started first!” Lily yelled after him, but Evan only barked a laugh.
Eirran raised a hand. “Easy – both of you. Back through the servant gate, quiet as mice. If anyone asks, you were in the library.”
Evan nodded and waved, running away.
Lily caught Eirran’s hand once more. “Will you fly above us? To keep watch?”
His wings unfurled, catching the fading light. “Of course.”
She smiled, then dashed off down the trail, chasing after Evan’s laughter.
Eirran pushed off the ground, wings beating the warm air, climbing above the treetops. From there he watched them run – her dark hair streaming behind her, Evan’s footsteps pounding in front of her.
He glided silently above, making sure not to lose sight of them.
And as he watched Lily running through the rose gold light, he felt something stir in his chest – not dread, not fear, but something brighter.
Hope.
Perhaps – just perhaps – some day the world might be ready for her after all.
And he would be there, high above, to make sure of it.
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