For three months, Gravity Storms have been tearing Yasmik apart and neither the humans
nor their winged neighbors, the Sorakines, are safe from them. One hotheaded young
Sorakine named Zashiel is convinced that the Storms are manmade, but she can't...
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Prologue
Gravity held no power over Zashiel as she flew above the grassy field, her bright yellow wings marking her like a beacon in the night sky. She stretched them out behind her as far as she could, savoring the feeling of the air passing between her feathers. Her sharp eyes scanned the field below her, taking in every detail as she soared over it, just like she had been trained to do.
"Where are you?" she asked in a low voice. "You can't hide from me forever."
The moment she asked, she spotted her target. A dull green light lit up the field, halfway buried underneath the tall grass, as if the plants themselves had begun to glow. With a grunt of satisfaction, she angled her wings downward and allowed gravity to take hold of her again.
Zashiel dove out of the moonlit sky as gracefully as an eagle, her wings leaving a yellow afterimage in her wake. As she fell, she reached behind her and drew her twin chakrams. The ring-shaped weapons had been forged specifically for her hands, and they fit in her grip like a glove. At the last moment, when she was only ten feet above the ground, she released herself from gravity's pull once again and arched out of the dive. At the lowest point of her arc, directly above the glowing green light, she lashed out with both chakrams, shredding the grass and sending it flying to her left and right. The green light leaped out of the brush and sped off into the night, zigzagging erratically.
Zashiel cursed under her breath and took off after it. She had been too slow, and now the ball of light had managed to gain distance on her. It was fast, and she had to flap her wings as hard as she could just to keep it in sight. It bobbed and weaved with a mind of its own, and every time she began to close in on it, it would make an abrupt U-turn and leave her behind again.
Frustration began to cloud Zashiel's thoughts, but she forced it to the back of her mind. She needed a clear head. Anger would only lead to rash actions, which would set her back even further. But the longer she chased the ball of light, the more obvious it became: she would never be able to catch it. She needed to think of something else.
Gripping her chakrams tightly in both hands, she hurled herself at the light, and once again began to catch up to it. Just as she'd planned, it suddenly changed direction and flew the other way. Zashiel whipped herself upright, her eyes never once losing sight of her quarry, and threw a chakram at it. It missed by a great distance, as she had known it would, but it came closer to the light than she ever had. Just as she predicted, the ball sensed the chakram and changed direction yet again, coming now back in her direction but still angled away from her. She extended her empty hand and anchored herself to the chakram that was still spinning off into the night, instantly drawing it back to her. With the other hand, she threw the second chakram. Reflecting the moonlight off its blade, it sped past the ball of light, passing less than a foot in front of it. Again, the light changed direction, just as the first chakram returned to her hand. She did this several times, throwing one weapon while pulling the other back to her, each time luring the ball of light closer to her. Finally, it came within reach, and her hands shot out to grab it.
