Darkness gathered. Thicker the storm clouds had become when Litzia and I emerged from the quarterdeck. Rushed deckhands, driving wind, all around us chaos skirted as we wended our way to the Anemone formation. We could not see it beyond the grayness, but it was around the time for sunset, and only but a couple of hours of day were left.

Like a poorly fed and dressed sentinel, garbed still in my slave rags, I followed Litzia and the maid to where our squadmates gathered. For the second time, I walked among the famed Anemones. Still many-colored they were, and the air of splendor was yet gleaming, but what pride and mirth they had borne in the captain’s citadel had given way to anxiety, doom and grief. In their ranks, the alares of Ala Estiva, the squadron Litzia and I were assigned, stood near the center. They numbered four: two pairs of knights and wyvernesses. Even under the oppression mood, these four radiated a different air from the rest. A startling contrast to their less boastful members who were still in grief.

The first to greet us was a tall and proud knight, a long blade and some sort of polearm secured to her back. Her hair was short and dark, her skin fair but toned. At once coming under the woman’s scrutiny, I felt measured. Though it lasted only a brief moment, I had an inkling of failing short to meet her standards. If I was right, she did not betray the truth in her formal greeting.

“Well met, sisters. It is a bleak day for us all to set out, but alas I have not the choice to pardon my grieving comrades from this dreadful duty. I am called Gladiola, tasked with this Ala’s leadership, and here’s my pledge-sister.” All the while she spoke, her firm gaze held upon Litzia and then me.

“Hortensia,” said the wyverness with a visage not so grievous by her side. From beneath her deep dark flowing hair, two silvery horns poked out and curved upwards. A white circlet rested between them. Her tapering tail was a dark blue, slim and long, coiling up from the floor and swaying as she spoke. Most striking was her exotic features and many-layered outfit, which I later learned to be the Old Empire’s fashion. “Those who live must live. Live for those who could not. And fate dictates it all, so of little use is our worries, but… leaving philosophical talks aside, does our little azure have a name?”

“My name is Star, ma’am.”

The wyverness giggled. “Not that one! But that has to wait, I think. I fear our captain would not allow us time for the initiation.”

I could not imagine a more disparate pair. But for how uptight the knight appeared, she did not remark on her partner’s lightheartedness, which had drawn hurtful glares from the nearby alae.

Somehow, however, the other pair of Ala Estival raised even more immediate questions. For their similarities went beyond just personality and manner, but to the way of dress, style of hair and mannerism. Both were white as snow: gray and shining. They were close. Though it had not yet been time for the pledge, their hands were joined, their faces brought near, so near that their shoulder-length locks of white almost intertwined. Even their heights and figures were identical. One would think them twin, if not for the black horns and a white tail only one of them possessed.

The knight was Acis. A smile, small but bright, adorned her face, and her eyes glimmered. This too was a point of dissimilarity, as Galanthus, the wyverness beside her, wore vaguer an expression, her mien unreadable. In essence, timid and reserved in speech but not all bashful – she did not shy from my inquisitive gaze but stared back in equal keenness.

It was only with those four, true alares, that I finally had a full picture of Litzia’s presence. Silent so far, my would-be pledge-sister still exuded an affecting presence upon them. Gladiola was proud and regal, but all the more rigid and unwavering was she; all the mysteriousness of the white pair met its equal in Litzia’s perfectly closed self. Only the aura of Hortensia seemed in conflict with hers.

Throughout the introduction, I saw the people of Ala Estival multiple times looking her way even as they conversed between themselves. And when it was her turn, they nodded and became thoughtful of her words, though I found in those no oddity.

“Where have you been, Galanthus?” Presently, Hortensia turned to the identical pair with a rather mundane topic. “The servants could not find you two, certainly not in the galley or the dining hall.”

Acis gave the inquiry an impish smile, squeezed her wyverness’ hand and nudged the girl with her slight shoulder. “Galanthus was afraid. She thought we might perish in battle, and would not eat or bathe or do aught for her own well-being when we could be together in our last hours.”

I was amazed, for many reasons. But the white wyverness was not so bothered by her knight’s unabashed implication. She shot her eyes to the crowd of Anemone around us as if spotting something.

“Ha! How about that?” Hortensia elbowed our leader, “Why couldn’t you be needier, my dear sister?”

This improper playful jab was interrupted and brought to an awkward state by the person who had captured Galanthus’s attention. There she was, with a new shield in hand, Valerian approached us. Straggling behind her was a wyverness of beautiful golden hair. Silent both, they halted before us without so much a greeting. And Hortensia’s grin withered.

Valerian looked at each of us, then cracked an awfully forced smile. “All ready to fly, eh?” she said.

Hortensia mumbled in affirmation, while Gladiola nodded. Galanthus however, stared hard at Valerian.

“Are you alright?” the quiet girl asked.

“Well, can you guess?” Valeria suddenly spat out, only to then look away, trailing off, “Pardon me... Just don’t speak a word of it for now.” And before the silence could set in again, she changed the subject, “Meet Marigold from Ala Aquilo. We met at the sickbay and, I suppose, agreed to this. She’ll be my pledge-sister for this flight.”

The girl nodded, but did not speak a word. Her eyes darkened as she gave each of us a cursory look. Hers was the more appropriate mood for the occasion. So many knights and wyverness appeared listless and gloomy. And though there were the odd ones out like Hortensia was before those two came, most acted forced. Even the rare laughter echoed bizarrely until drowned out by sailors’ ahoys around the deck.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Among our Ala, a silence of pity dominated. Even the mirthful Hortensia would not venture a lark now, and the quiet pair of white kept to themselves. But presently, Gladiola accosted Valerian and Marigold, breaking through the air of uneasiness that bound them.

“I spoke grave words just now,” said her, “in sympathy for our new sisters among us. That no length of tears and grief would quench pains so great in so short a time. But harken, Ala-sister, and be reminded of what you know but may have forgone in your fit of emotions: that we are but slaves for duties and the oath. Comfort and extravagance may have cloaked us in likeness of lordship and divinity, but beyond this front, we are but crude servants of war who fight for the mistress of our household. The debts of duty must be paid. The blades we wield and the flights we took are services we render. And these extend well beyond mere obligations, but to each and every hand upon this vessel, who toil to keep us afloat, and to our sisters of the Anemones, who fight by our side and would or have given their lives for us. So gather your courage and put your grief on hold but for a while. Undertake your duty, do not resent the mistress and our cruel fates, but fight for the fallen and live! I have no mind to take an unwilling alaris under my wing. So pray, are you willing or not?”

“All of that I know,” Valeria answered darkly, “and have not wholly forgotten. I shall serve the oath, Gladiola. But ask not of me to abandon my resentment. For it is my ultimate right that no oath will override.”

She gave no more objection, and they both seemed to be in agreement. But I alone knew Gladiola was wrong. Litzia and I knew. For unlike them, my own wyverness did not fight for that honorable oath they speak of. She bore the mark of a slave, and a slave indeed she was, in all true senses of the word. She would fight only as she was ordered. If she were to hate and to loath, none would have the right to shame her for it, as all her rights and freedom had already been taken, so that the only thing she had left was deep resentment, unlike Valerian.

I stood closest to her, so I felt it strongly when her bearing darkened. She cast her gaze to somewhere beyond the railings, as if to hide her gritting teeth. I did not know what to do. Looking at her, and all who were around us, I wondered if I should imitate Galanthus and Snowbell – to hold her hand and stay her inner trembling. But I could not, and in the end I watched her as she sulked, waiting as night approached, until the order for flight was passed around.

Having received the signal. Gladiola bade us to our preparation.

“We take off now,” said our leader, “fly in two wings: I shall take the lead with Valerian. Star, you are to follow Acis to her starboard astern.”

The order given, it was time for our pledge to be enacted. On deck, knights and wyverns began to join hands in a hurried mood. It was to be my first. Something so ancient and sacred would soon bind us, and yet I was to perform it with alertness and so much uncertainty.

I turned to Litzia. At last, she lifted her head and looked deep into my eyes. Awkwardly, our fingers found each other and intertwined. Her touch was hot, and her palms sweaty. But I was the one who relied on her guidance, which she provided with firmness and experience, and gradually I found it in me to release my nerves to her beats and flow.

For a brief moment, Litzia’s eyes, those ever-deep oceans, seemed to question my intents, this time I could do naught but stare back. Then she exhaled, and so did I. For every breath, our heartbeats slowed and came to yearn for each other, so that gradually they came to echo in sync, aligning even as our very thoughts and will.

Litzia's lips moved. Her whispering was thunder to my ears, so that each sound reverberated by ways of our skinship, drilling and carving deep into the soul. I shuddered.

“So that we may not part, bind us.” Sweetly each word came out crystalline. And I heard the minute detail of each rise and fall in her voice. Not only the sound but also the warmth of each breath drawn, how the tongue moved and clicked, as though with each inhalation I sounded deep into her, measuring the depth and breadth of her lungs.

I recalled the words I had been taught and chanted in halting words, “So that our bond perseveres, give us strength.”

To an outsider, the chant might come across as an empty procedure and routine, like one dumb spell to draw the laboring strength out of an ox. But to each of us it was intimate and meaningful. We spoke not only with the tip of our tongue but also truth and sincerity. For words no matter how many could not work without these vital parts. Each meaning of the pledge having been internalized, the correct sound, then, was only to invoke what is inside unto the physical realm.

And then together, word matched for word, warmness for warmness:

“By mother’s soul, by father’s grace,

We brave the storm and bridge the lands,

But solemn earth and siren call

May rend our thread, so bind it tight

Though twice the woe, and twice the rain;

Yet twice a warm embrace

Inspires enduring wills,”

At this moment Litzia’s voice raised, and mine also, impressing each word with ferocity, without thinking, without knowing,

“And should that day come, when death do us part,

On yonder scale, together weighed, twin deeds appraised

And so be bound, accorded, ordained;

Therefore this hour, we pledge our fate.”

[https://i.ibb.co/9vk8n7j/pledge.png]

At the last word fall, a heavy pang draped over my soul. ‘Tis was a pledge heeded by the gods of old. An infinite emptiness and dark emotions whirled and trapped me in the world of thoughts, until they ran through all my veins to the most well-hidden cavern of my being – where to every side, within and without, was laced with Litzia’s emotions. We felt each other. And in us there born an understanding unlike any other before, for every piece of wild emotions, every mysterious sentiment. And indeed never before had I been so keenly aware of the profound loneliness I had experienced thus far in my life. It was only it becoming one with another that it’d become known. And forever would the knowledge stay, while the memories fade not. So formed the pledge between two.

I opened my eyes, for they had been closed in the surge of emotions just now. In her dark gaze then, I understood, just the gravity of this sadness of which I had only caught a glimpse before. It was real, but also not. I felt it all: rejection, blankness, sadness, listlessness, paralyzing fears and reckless abandon… things that constituted the person, the wrath that I’d ill-understood, enough to drive a friendless wyvern to the opposition of a dragon. And there seemed little left of her black shell I’d first beheld. Physical form no longer hid the truth as we looked into each other.

In the span of a blink, Litiza changed. There she stood in monstrous form, and yet it felt as though if I were to squint, or to blink once more, I would have observed that she had not changed in the slightest. For it was the same person beneath all those scales and serpentine appearance. Wings she spread, and the sky called out to us. A sudden impulse seized me, and her no less, so that we could no longer be chained to our footing, and that we may gain the freedom that was now ours. Quickly I joined her, neatly situated on a place soft and comforting without rough scales at the base of the long neck, one as though made thus for this connection since the age of creation. The moment she beat her wings, strong wind assailed our connected bodies and souls, and the deck fell sharply away.

My first flight with Litzia had begun. Now we headed into battle.