"Aurevia. The wind that seems free, yet follows a path it cannot leave."
Aurevia was born blind, her pale eyes called a blessing from the gods. But her gift was feared - she spoke truths that cut too deep, and she was chained away like a monster.
Years passed in darkness until one night the moon called to her. It offered her freedom, but warned her to remember the destruction she had once caused. Only then did she understand her imprisonment was a punishment, not just fear.
She drank from the moon's light, her chains turned to dust, and silver wings grew from her back. But her freedom was another kind of cage, every beat of her wings carried her along a path chosen by the stars.
Now, Aurevia roams the endless night, shining like silver light, forever searching for a freedom she may never truly have.
"I wear the afterlife like a sky of silver feathers, yet freedom remains a horizon that even death cannot give."
"...Is she feverish?" Harlow asked flatly.
"I'm not feverish." I snapped.
"You're babbling about falling out of the sky and magical doors," Harlow countered. "And your pupils are unfocused."
"They are not unfocused!"
Beladora stepped closer and cupped my cheeks, turning my face toward the light. "Oh, sweetheart... your eyes are a little glassy."
I pulled my face back, groaning. "I'm not sick!"
Harlow folder her arms. "Bel, get the thermometer."
My jaw dropped. "Absolutely not."
Beladora smiled warmly. Too warmly. "Absolutely yes."
Harlow lifted me from the chair with one arm, like I weighed the same as a scarf and deposited me on her hip.
(Picture from pinterst: @esterscanon)