Women in the small kingdom of Aeriana are disappearing.
Iris Daniels, a budding painter in the East Territory, is trying to keep her head down. In a kingdom filled with abilities, music, and Destined love, Iris is determined to build a career out of...
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Today is the day to spread your wings! Try a new activity, speak to a new friend or acquaintance. Be open with yourself and your decisions today.
—Daily Horoscope, StarsAligned Website
Iris Daniels hated wings.
Keeping her fingertips light against the wooden paintbrush, she tilted her wrist and cast a small, flowing line onto the canvas. Despite her dislike for the blasted things, she took a deep breath and powered through it. Any hesitancy she had would show itself in her brushstrokes. She needed smooth, shallow lines, not small choppy ones.
She grimaced at the canvas. Darting across the piece, the black bird was in flight, its wings a stark, cerulean and navy mixture. They would be the focal point, the attention-grabbing color bringing light to the otherwise dark piece.
Wiping at her brow with the back of her hand, her stool creaked as she sat back. Despite the last four hours she'd spent on this piece, she wasn't sure if it'd be salvageable. But she would exhaust herself trying.
Setting her paintbrush on the lip of the paint-stained, scratched easel, she yawned and glanced at her cracked phone screen. 3:57 a.m.
Maybe she needed a small break.
She hobbled over to her tiny studio apartment's kitchen. Her muscles screamed at her. That was what she got for sitting in the same place for so long. Even with the bathroom breaks, she'd been stagnant for too long. And for what? A dark, churning mess of paint stuck on an expensive canvas?
Iris grabbed a water and took a swig. Next to her bed, her outdated thrift store television chimed the opening bars of the East City Daily News. She let the dim drone of the early morning news fill the apartment and started washing the few dishes in the sink. The spaghetti sauce from two days ago had dried along the edges of one plate. Meanwhile, cheese from her ready-made pizza yesterday clung to another.
A cold fall wind wafted in from the open kitchen window and draped over her hands. It rustled through the collection of past due utility notices pasted on the side of her fridge.
There was a noise outside—most likely someone taking out their trash before their early morning shift.
"Breaking news from a western suburb near Faer City—police have found the body of a teenager in an abandoned home off Highway 35. Joden Thomas is over at the site with the latest. Joden?"
Iris frowned and turned to the television.
A younger, dark-skinned male took over the screen. "Hi Sharon. As you can see behind me, police have crossed off a block right off Highway 35, on Baeyn Avenue."
