The Kettle

The air itself felt wrong tonight.

Most everything felt wrong -off- ever since those voices, and those dreams had begun. His even steps echoed as his boots hit the stone flooring.

The entire Eyrie is at Maeby’s ceremony, and here I am running away. The hall was uncharacteristically silent. Typically they were lively, full of merchants hawking their wares and musicians playing instruments. The pair bonding ceremony had drawn a large crowd, but the merchants were likely working on their craft or sleeping by now.

“Roosting so early, Bolero?” A familiar voice sounded from behind him, and he turned on his heels. Maeby. The owl shifter leaned against the stone wall, luminescent feathers glowing in her pale hair. Her thobe was ornate, jet black and embroidered with golden silk. The silk curled into the shape of the phases of the moon, and flowed all the way to the hem of the robe. It was a lovely garment, one befitting of an Eyrie leader. Or a bird on her pair bonding night. Maeby’s large, dark eyes almost glowed in the torchlight.

“Shouldn’t you still be flying with Badru?” Bolero smiled politely, and inclined his head. “I’m sure he misses you already. Honestly, Maeby. I’m fine. I was just going to try and get some sleep before the dancing tomorrow.”

He nodded towards the inner hall Chamber where his people all slept, except for a select few. It was a large cavern, with its ceiling carved to expose the chamber to sunlight. Within it grew several massive trees, their canopies providing ample shelter for sleep. Some chose to stay in human form in hammocks, while others perched in trees.

“I’ve been trying to wrap the ceremony up for hours. I can only fly in circles for so long.” Maeby mumbled. Her toes tapped on the stone floor, clicked, even though she was barefoot. Bolero realized with a sinking stomach that her talons were unsheathed. She only did that when she was stressed. The copper feathers lining Bolero’s nape rose slightly. His talons pricked at the tips of his toes.

“What’s wrong, Maeby?”

“Do you remember when we were eyasses- hardly more than fledglings, and we would see who could dive through the waterfall mists the fastest-”

“-and Azura would beat us every single time?” He chuckled.

“You would get so angry at her, for racing us when she hadn’t been invited. You would land at the entrance of the woods, and perch in one of the old maple trees.” Maeby’s pale lips curved into a smile. “You would pout for hours, thinking none of us could find where you hid.”

“But you would all be waiting for me underneath the tree the whole time, with sweets you’d snuck out of the scullery hall.”

At that, Maeby’s eyes narrowed slightly. Her smile faded slowly as she glanced up and met his eyes. Bolero glanced at her feet, now fully scaled, talons still clicking on the ground.

“What else is on your mind, Maeby? You’re fidgeting again.” Behind them, the torches’ flames danced, shadows flickering over Maeby’s features. She was a fair owl shifter, as her parents were. The lighting of the hall accentuated her high cheekbones and heart shaped face.

“Have you ever felt like…the Haggards and Altairi are keeping something from us?” Bolero studied his friend’s face. Was this really the time for such a conversation? More importantly, was this truly the appropriate time for such a potentially dangerous conversation?

Of course I think they’re hiding something from us. He thought about the Nithra, and the shadow who he’d offered venison pieces to. There had always been this other side to him, a side he felt was more than Firehawk or Eyrie.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

If Maeby was picking up on his… otherness… it was not a good sign.

“There are more important things to worry about tonight, Maeby.” He hissed, his tone more aggressive than he’d intended. He fixed his eyes on one of the stone walls, watching the torch lights flicker and jump, reacting to his emotional state.

One of the drawbacks to elemental affinities. They heavily relied on the shifter’s thoughts and feelings, an intricate part of their being. A shifter’s magic, like their second form, was in their blood. Part of their body.

“I just… the mythologies. The Celestial Eagle. I was thinking about them the other night, thinking about the stories we were told at the temple for our entire lives. Some of it just doesn’t add up to me.”

Bolero glanced up and down the corridor, hoping no one else was eavesdropping nearby. “Maeby, tonight is…not the time for these conversations.”

Maeby’s dark eyes flickered with annoyance, which quickly turned to sorrow. “Bolero, tonight is the only time for them. You know what the ceremony means, as well as I do.” It made Bolero’s heart sink. Yes, he did. It likely meant the end of their time as close friends.

“Maeby, we’ll… we will still find time. Perhaps you can join me on a hunt, or…” Bolero cursed himself silently, his voice petering out. Badru would never let Maeby into the forest. She would be fortunate to catch a mouse, even less go on a full-fledged hunt. Eyrie members were forbidden from entering the forest at night. The Nithra was no place for a nocturnal hunter.

Against his own judgement, Bolero stepped forward, and laid his head on Maeby’s shoulder. They stood still like this for a moment, both pretending as if there was nothing amiss. As if everything wouldn’t change once the sun rose, once the lure dancing celebrations were completed. Once, as eyasses, they had shared a nestbed. Many a time, they had perched on the same limb, preened together. Times like this - talks, secrets kept only between them - would become a thing of rarity. Pair bonded birds did not spend time alone with other, unpaired birds. He didn’t know what he would do without her with him almost constantly, without his adopted sibling and dearest friend. Maeby stepped away from Bolero, leaving his chest empty.

That physical contact, as little as it was, would never be allowed again.

“I want to figure out what’s missing from the Mythologies,” She continued, “Nadine and the other Haggards like me. They trust me. I’m certain they would let me go through the tomes in the vault.”

“What spurred all of this on, Maeby?”

“Your parents.” She said, her voice clipped.

Bolero’s heart dropped. He was out of words. Out of things to say. Every time he had tried to ask the Eyrie leadership about his family history, he had been turned away. Instructed never to utter a question about his mother or father again. Maeby was headed into dangerous territory. Possibly treasonous territory.

“Why now, though? We had our entire childhood to ask these questions.”

“Something is off, Bolero. Something is in the air, as if new magics were awakened. Something is changing here.”

So she felt it, too. Bolero wondered how many of his people could sense it on the air. Change. A scent of wildness, as if the forest itself was beginning to drift to the cliff face.

“You should go back to Badru,” He mumbled, backed away from her hurriedly, and turned. “Don’t ever mention my family to the Haggards. Or Altairi.”

Loss. The last decade or so had brought him unimaginable amounts of grief.

By the time he reached the end of the hall and the entrance to the chamber, Maeby had gone.

Visions of rainbow fire, of the high, cavernous ceilings of the Eyrie Temple, dotted his sleep. And a young woman, unfamiliar to him. Always that young woman, now. Every time he’d closed his eyes since that hide-behind in the forest. Who was she? What was she? She appeared human, always standing on the temple steps, bathed in blood and asking where she was.

She always fell into the abyss below, screaming, before he could manage to reach her.

Bolero. Bolero.

Chainbreaker…

Nursery of stars…