Descendant

Anqa Flameweaver- 25 years earlier

My dear, sweet Bolero.

Anqa Flameweaver listened to the rhythmic dripping of her blood onto the filthy stone floor. Her eyes burned, tears leaving a briney trail down her bruised, swollen cheeks. A small flicker of flame crested, then died in her palm. She gritted her teeth, choking down a sob. No amount of flame weaving could help her. Not now. Not here. Anqa took a deep breath. The putrid scent of stone, moss and her lifeblood assailed her senses.

I have to steel myself, she thought. All that matters is safe. The fae magi had accepted her bargain at first light, and left with a sleeping Bolero bundled in his arms.

If her blood was scattered by the winds to water the arid Steppes, it wouldn’t matter. Her son was safe- at least for now. The Goddess’ bloodline was guarded, protected, far from the grasp of the Eyrie.

Anqa coughed, her throat hoarse. Her wrists stung, as the warmth left her body one drop at a time from the methodically-placed incisions. Altairi had been efficient, if nothing else. For a long time Anqa had suspected the eagle priestess took pleasure in the happenings of the Scrape, the maintaining of secrets untold. Now she knew for certain.

How shameful. The eagle hadn’t even stayed to watch her work in progress. The temple steward’s brutality was hidden, almost as well as the celestial Descendants’ existence.

Her reflection stared at her from the crimson pooling underneath. She was happy her partner wasn’t here to see her like this; fettered, helpless like a trapped dove.

Where was her Goddess now?

Tears obscured her vision, a dappled prism of light. Starlight, she thought, lips curling into a sad smile. A nursery of stars, a divine nebula of dust and the birth of planets. Life maker. Chain breaker. Celestial Eagle.

Hours later, Anqa closed her eyes for the last time, as her goddess came for her.

Bolero landed roughly, immediately shifting back to his human form. His flight feathers felt wet, as if he had just flown through the waterfall or taken a dip in the river’s rapids. The mist was thicker here, as if he could grasp a handful of it if he so wished. A blanket of moss and grass was soft beneath his bare feet, the arches of the Nithra’s willow-lined entrance beckoning him. The willows were weathered and ancient, and had at one point been coaxed into forming a long tunnel, blocking any light that would otherwise filter through the cover. It was purposeful, a signal that made the nature of these woods clear; they were laced with untamed, feral magic. It was why Eyrie shifters were required to hunt in parties.

The Nithra may have held and nurtured the game animals they depended on for food, but it also contained secrets, hidden dangers long faded into the obscurity of Eyrie myth. This magic-laced fog, whatever it was…

It was certainly one of those dangers. And it was suppressing his shifting abilities somehow.

Bolero sighed heavily and stepped forwards, studying the forest sprawled before him. There was no option but to continue on foot, in human form. There was no shifting here. Not until this cleared up.

Or rather, until whoever had cast this lifted the spell.

Eyrie magic didn’t work using spells. Sigil casting was limited to the temple eagles and Haggards, but otherwise affinities were controlled from within. The strength of a bird’s magic was determined by willpower, bloodline, and internal limits. Eyrie magic kept a shifter alive, slowed their aging, gave them their bird forms.

Thus, the mist was not of Eyrie origin. He didn’t know what it could be, except for Sidhe. And he had no desire to encounter fae in these woods, nor offend them.

A large wooden structure proceeded the pathway to the Nithra, almost altar-like, the beams on top carved with protective sigils. Lichen grew on it, green and grey interspersed amongst the rotting brown planks. The sweetness and scent of steel assailed his senses as he strode past it. Powerful spellwork, in this mist. Too powerful for its presence to be a mere coincidence.

Acknowledge us, bloodbound hawk. The words echoed in his mind, a prayer whispered to Gods he didn’t know.

Past the archways, the forest canopy towered high enough to block out most light. Pillars burst through the leaves, small windows of sunlight that glistened on the dew-covered leaf litter below. Every inch of the forest floor was full of life, crucial to the eternal cycle that drove the land of Rihlia.

Bolero breathed deeply. The Nithra was tinted with the smell of Earth. Soil, moss and rotten wood. Preferable to the sickening magic that hung in the air, most certainly. The Nithran growth was ancient, the trees saplings before the advent of his people. Prior to the Eyrie’s birth, the entirety of the forest had been Fae territory. The Sidhe were a powerful, proud people. The warded wooden structure outlining the Nithra’s entrance was designed to keep them away from the Eyrie.

Bolero stared into the sparkling columns of sunlight filtering through the tops of the trees. Every cell of his being screamed not to enter the forest alone, the magic of the Eyrie wards pulsing, screaming their alarm at his presence. He swallowed hard and focused the magic in his body into one of his hands. The heat gathered, a small spark coming to life and arcing in his palm.

The slight sound of bells and footsteps broke the heavy silence.

He paused. Bolero’s nape feathers raised in alarm. He whirled around, fists flickering with newborn embers. Ready to strike, to turn this interloper into a searing pile of ash. With a shriek, a young woman backed away from him, falling backwards before lifting up her palms in surrender. His heart leaped into his throat as it occurred to him. Disaster.

By the Eagle, what a disaster this was turning out to be. He hadn’t stepped foot into the Nithra, yet…

“Indigo?!” Bolero pulled his fists back towards him and quelled his flame. The light from it faded quickly. “What in the hell are you doing here?” He growled, tempted to arch flame at her. Why would she show up here, of all places? Of all times to follow him…

Idiot. Fool. Eyass. He grasped her elbow and pulled her up to a standing position. He towered over her, at least two heads taller than the young merlin shifter, glowering.

“Everyone is worried about you, clearly,” Indigo shrugged out of his grip, eyes wide, her long braid drifting over her shoulder with the effort. Her ceremonial bells jingled as she moved to cross her arms. “That tends to happen when you act absolutely insane during an important Eyrie ceremony.” Bolero cut her a glare as she arched a brow at him. “Expect the Haggards to summon you when we get back.”

Bolero clenched his fists. “When I get back. You, falcon, are going to turn around. You’re going to shift, and fly back home.”

Indigo didn’t budge. Bolero gritted his teeth.

“Now.”

“I’m not leaving, Bolero. You can’t expect to leave so abruptly, to leave Azura in tears-again, without someone following you. You almost lost consciousness back there, Bolero. We don’t just faint.”

“I’m just exhausted—”

“-I don’t believe you.”

Bolero took a deep breath and turned to glare daggers at Indigo. This damned merlin. “You heard nothing back there?”

“Aside from the music and bells?” Indigo shook her head. “No. Nothing. None of us heard anything unusual.” She tilted her head and eyed him suspiciously. “Why?” Her eyes narrowed.

“None of you felt that magic surge?” From her expression, Bolero knew the answer before she said it.

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“Nothing,”

Bolero sighed, glanced towards the tree tunnel up ahead, and sat heavily on the ground. Indigo, quite clearly confused, sat down across from him. The motion was childish- it was easy to forget just how young she was. Practically a fledgling. Bolero’s breath caught.

“I…guess I have some explaining to do.” He could tell this excited Indigo, as she scooted closer to him. The curious gleam in her eyes infuriated him somehow. There was still no way he was going to let her come with him. “Lately, even before this morning, I’ve been feeling something strange. Dreams. Perhaps visions, but that simply wouldn’t make sense.”

Indigo opened her mouth to speak, but Bolero glared, and she closed her mouth.

“Initially it was just something on the air- a chill of sorts. I tried investigating a little bit when I was out hunting with the party the other morning, but couldn’t find anything.”

“Is that why you’ve been hunting so much lately? You even skipped training all last week. We were wondering why.”

“When I killed that doe. There was…something else there.”

“Something like…”

“A shadow, a spirit of some kind, I couldn’t tell. But it seemed hungry, and it was following me.“

“Bolero! You did not. Please tell me you did not leave an Ancient an offering!” Indigo’s voice became shriller with every word.

“I think something broke through the Eyrie’s protective wards, maybe because of me. Because I made an offering. I must have inadvertently asked for a favor, or made a bargain with one of the beings that lives here.”

“That’s impossible, Bolero. The-”

“Haggards and Altairi crafted the wards centuries ago, I know.”

“Nothing from the forest can get through,”

“That’s what we’ve been taught, yes, but…have you ever stopped to think about if anything has even tried to break through before? Other than the Void Falconers eons ago, but that is a myth. Folklore they told us as fledgelings to scare us.”

At that, Indigo looked away sharply. “I always thought they were real…”

Bolero continued, “I heard a voice, Indigo. In the Chamber, last night while everyone else was still at the pair bonding ceremony.”

“It was probably just sound traveling from the ceremony”

“This wasn’t anyone’s voice we knew. It was unfamiliar, and almost like it was moving around the room. It knew my name. It told me that I’d….forgotten about them.”

They both sat in silence for a time, neither daring to break it. The thick fog continued to hang low in the forest, drifting around them like clouds. Bolero’s nostrils flared, scenting his surroundings. Moss. Soil. Rotting wood. There was a rabbit here somewhere, a harbinger not far off…

“So this morning, then- is that why you looked so pale? You heard it again?” Both knew the direness of that circumstance. Not only something able to bypass protective magic, but something powerful enough to reach the Kettle during a sacred time.

Whatever was reaching out to Bolero, it was old. It knew about the wards. And it seeked his company.

Finally, Bolero gestured around them, “This fog, it doesn’t make you feel absolutely horrible?”

Indigo looked thoughtful for a moment, “Now that you mention it, I feel a…weight.”

Bolero stood and gestured to her. “Try to shift,” He said sharply. Indigo eyed him skeptically, and stood. She stood beside him and tensed, willing the change on. Other than a few feathers, she could hardly even make her talons grow.

“What? How?”

“The fog. It seems to be a ward of some kind. Meant to prevent us from shifting.”

Bolero…

That voice again, this time so close. Almost close enough to touch. Bolero paled, as that chill- that horrific ice- crawled up his spine.

Bolero turned to Indigo and pointed back in the direction of the Eyrie, “You have to go,” He ordered, “Now.”

“Did it just happen again? Did you just hear it again? How am I supposed to go anywhere when I can’t shift?”

Bolero clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth.

“I said, go. You’ll find a way. This isn’t safe for you. Something is calling to me, and it wants me to find it.”

Indigo, being the way she was, simply crossed her arms and planted her feet where she stood.

“I’m coming with you.”

Bolero groaned, defeated. He grasped Indigo by the arm and pulled her towards him, forcing her to look up at him. Fear and guilt panged in his gut. If something were to happen to Indigo, it would be his responsibility. His fault.

“If you come with me,” He said, eyes glimmering with anger, “You understand what that means, right? You’re hardly more than an eyass, with no magic ability whatsoever. If there’s a Fae or a demon here, if this creature is what’s infiltrating the wards, there is not much I can do to save you.” Bolero fished through his satchel, tied tightly to the sash around his waist. He grasped the hilt of a small dagger-his last resort- and handed it to Indigo. He pushed it into her palm and closed her hand around the handle.

“Bolero…are you sure?” Indigo’s eyes widened as she gazed up at him, knowing whose blade it was. “This was…your father’s.”

He watched as she reached into her long, braided hair and fished something out- it rang softly, musically, as she pressed it into his hand. A gift for a gift. He regarded the lure dancing bell, carved with complex symbols, intently. Altairi must have done it, to give Indigo at least some form of protection. Without magical ability and training, she was helpless most of the time, even while at the Eyrie. Nodding, he tied the golden bell into his hair, still pulled back save for several loose strands that hung in front of his face. He offered her a sad smile, and shook his head just enough to let the bell jingle.

“Indigo…does anyone know you’re here? Do they know that you have followed me?”