Wings of Change

Chapter 5: Getting Answers and Raising Suspicions

He stood amid a burning forest. Ash and cinders rained down upon him and he could see nothing through the black smoke. He called for others as he stumbled forward. His body screamed in protest and his knees were weak. Blood seeped from a gash in his arm, but he ignored it and pressed on.

There was no way of knowing where he was. Nothing looked at all familiar, though he was aware that he was wearing his goggles, and, for some reason, he sensed he no longer had to keep his powers a secret. But where was he? And why was he all alone?

"Bobble!"

He froze instinctively, hearing a voice rising from somewhere behind him. He turned to see the faint glow of wings barrelling toward him. He squinted, and it was a moment before he realized that it was a fairy racing toward him.

She wasn't someone he had met. She was blond. She wore a green dress, so there was a good chance she was a tinker like him--or, like he pretended to be.

He didn't know who she was shouting at, but it didn't matter. To his surprise, she grabbed his hand as she zipped by and yanked him after her. He tried to protest, to find out what was going on, but his words were lost in the loud hissing and the tremendous explosion that shook the earth and sent everything spiraling to black.

Now, he found himself standing in a darkened hall, facing a long corridor that seemed to extend forever. He called out, but the fairy who'd been beside him was gone. The air was frozen, and as he cautiously took a step forward, he slipped on the iced floor.

"Masssster...he's come!"

He froze, hearing the hiss through the darkness. He felt his hands growing warm, and he looked down, watching as red light illuminated his fingertips. A whoosh of fire shot through his nerves and he fell back as a dark shadow materialized before him, soulless eyes gazing deep into his soul.

"Thisss issss the one. Jusssstttt feel hisss power. One of puressst intentionssss, ssssoon to become the desssstroyer."

The shadow lunged for him, piercing his very soul. He screamed, and covered his face, falling hard against the nonexistent floor. There was a jolt of bone-crushing pain...and then stillness.

He awoke in a cold sweat, shaking violently, blankets pulled all the way up over his shoulders. Even as he blinked open his eyes, he could feel himself trembling. Carefully, he sat up, swinging himself around to sit on the edge of his bed and stare at himself in the mirror. Here he was, a ragged, disheveled mess. His clothes, still filthy from his adventures with the Sprinting Thistles, and his goggles pushed up in his messy hair. He sighed, pulling them over his eyes and reaching for the water dropper he'd crafted with Rosetta's help. It was a bit of a crude method, but at least it was enough to make sure he could see, if only for a few minutes at a time.

After refilling the lenses, he tried once more to brush his hair, only having partial success as a great deal of it went haywire around his glasses. Once again, he gave up and focused on doing anything that involved ignoring the dream as it pounded its way against his mind. He fell back against his bed with a breathy sigh. What had that shadow thing meant? The destroyer? Was that some kind of...warning? Did it have something to do with his talent...with being a Protector?

Now that he stopped to think about it, he didn't really know that much about what it really meant to be the Protector. Queen Clarion had already mentioned that it meant he was supposed to defend the Hollow. But defend it from what? From what he'd seen, the worst danger was the Sprinting Thistles, and the fast-flying guild seemed to have that entirely under control. He didn't understand what purpose he had.