A Court of Truths and Revival

To Be Seen

SEREN

There is a brief moment when she left the ground, even when she had wings, where she wondered if the dirt left behind would pull her back with force no wings could match. She'd feared it when she'd learned to fly and as the size of her wings and the strength of her muscles grew, it faded to a fleeting worry.

That long ago fear was back in full force as she was taken higher and she dreaded finding out the next time she saw Bryaxis if he could someone manifest his form into that of an unseen fear.

"Should I be offended you think me about to drop you?" Azriel said, murmuring in her ear so the wind couldn't steal away his voice.

She instantly tried to relax in his arms, not realizing that her thoughts were so evident. Peaking at his beating wings, Seren shook her head. He'd never drop her. The sheer strength and width of his wings would never allow it. "It's not that..."

"Close your eyes," he instructed. "Let the wind call to you and the cool embrace of the clouds comfort you. Feel its serenity."

She bit her lip, not sure that she'd feel any of it anymore. Not when she'd never again soar on her own. But Azriel seemed sure and she'd trusted him her entire life so she squeezed her eyes shut.

Her spine was bent at an odd angle and her abbs clenched unnecessarily as if she were preparing to break her fall by attempting to winnow against the powerful pull of the ground. Blood coated her hands and the numb realization that getting her revenge fixed nothing within her hardened her heart.

But she wanted to feel something, even if it was just the wind in her hair. Cradled against Azriel's chest, there was no need for her to be so tense. As she left her focus slip to the air currents whipping around her form, she was slowly able to ease herself back into Azriel's firm embrace.

"That's it," he said into the shell of her ear and she shivered for an entirely different reason as she thought of the other times he'd used that sensual tone.

Allowing herself to further relax, Seren listened to the song coming to life in her veins. All Illyrians heard it, even those with mixed blood like her and Rhys. It was an adrenaline-filled rhythm. Powerful and intoxicating. It had a purpose, though she didn't share its undertones of war and glory. Like distant lyrics brought forth by the wind rushing into her ear as Azriel evened out to soar at an angle, Seren heard its guidance. Guard. Never forget. Bow. She wondered how clearly Azriel heard it, or if after so long, it was only a lingering guidance.

Her stomach hit her throat when Azriel banked right and rolled through the air. "Show off."

"I could say the same to you," he retorted and Seren instantly peeled her eyes open, thankful for the fact her partial Illyrian anatomy protected her eyes from excessive watering at such heights and speeds.

She saw nothing. Night had pushed into day, or so she thought with wonder until she realized it was her doing. Black magic spooled from her in a seemingly endless torrent of relief. Rage had given away to relief and raw grief for that which she couldn't have back. Her mother never got to see her children grow into themselves and her father would never have a chance at redemption. And she'd never fly on her own again.

But she would fly. "Higher."

Azriel didn't look at her, but she saw the corner of his lips quirk up as he obliged. Like a sword on an upward arc, he cut through her black clouds until they were well above and back in the sun.

Part of her wanted to clamor onto his back so she could throw her arms wide as she often did with Rhys when she'd been too young to fly high above the ground, but Azriel wasn't her brother and there were much more intriguing things that could be done in the sky that she'd never considered as a small child.