Sitting on a wicker chair underneath a pavilion in the Wark estate’s gardens, I watched as Charlotte meticulously watered each plant inside of the large planter box individually, pausing frequently to inspect the soil. It had barely been two days since the girl’s father had cleared me of my father’s crimes. Immediately after arriving, she expressed how sorry she was about telling her father what I had told her. The honesty in her pink eyes contrasted the emotion in her father’s the night that I had been attacked in the dungeon.
“Don’t resent my daughter sharing your secrets. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have ways of finding out the truth.” Her father had spoken that night, his eyes neutral and unfeeling. “Imagine my surprise when she tells me that your father was a criminal working under Lord Gelling.”
I barely trusted the man. He had simply watched as an assassin snuck into my cell and nearly murdered me. I could tell immediately that he saw me as nothing more than a tool. It was similar to how my father looked at me; I was not his son, I was another soldier in his little army.
“Why are you here?” I had asked him resentfully.
“I came to ask you a question, but I’ve had more answered than I intended.” The man spoke, eying the wings coming from my back. “Your mother was Arkan I assume?”
“How did you know?” I asked, retracting my wings. The action had been easier than I thought.
“For the past twenty years, Lord Gelling has been obsessed with Arkan mythology.” The marquis started, stepping towards my cell, leaning against the metal bars. “There are many stories and predictions, most of which are inconsequential, though one, one very special story, caught his eye. Have you ever heard of the Kantr?”
“I know that it’s an Arkan word. It means something like messenger.” I answered, pulling on the small amount of Arkan I had learned from my perusal of the Wark’s library.
“It means divine messenger.” The marquis clarified. “The closest translation that we can make in our imperfect language is ‘angel’.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I asked, confused.
“The Arkan stories surrounding the Kantr are special and, believe it or not, several of the events described in those stories have come to pass.” The man revealed. “The world, cracked and wounded shall be split once more in twain as man fights against man and the blood of Arka shall be spilt freely. From the blood of Arka shall come a child of man. Called Kantr, this child will bear an inheritance far greater than their parent. The Kantr will fight for man until the day shall come when their blood shall pass and their blood shall raise the queen of spirits to grant a wish to man to destroy the world, or save it.”
“And, you think I’m this Kantr?” I stuttered nervously.
“I’m sure you know as well as I that ‘inheritance’ means the Arkan’s wings.” The marquis explained. “I don’t know if you’ve seen any Arkan, but none of their wings are even close to that size, or on their back.”
I wanted to refute his words, but they made a lot of sense, even if they were from a fantasy. What did this mean for me? Was my whole life already designed for me? If that’s the case, then why would I do anything if none of my choices matter.
“I would advise you against showing those to anyone who doesn’t already know they’re there, or if you intend to kill them.” The man spoke, kicking at the dead man on the floor.
Looking down at the assassin, I felt no regret, no shock, no shame. This wasn’t the first life I’d taken. Even the three men who had attacked Charlotte and I in town weren’t my first. The first life I had taken was at the command of my father when I was six years old. My father had caught the man in the act of stealing from him and took the chance to have me learn to take a life. The act haunted me then, but after taking many more, it had become dull and drowned out.
“Now get some sleep.” The marquis commanded, turning away from me. “I’ll send someone to take care of our guest here.”
Sneering at the man, I stepped back and laid down on the bed and closed my eyes, listening as a pair of footsteps approached and worked to move the body.
“Ham!” Charlotte shouted, pulling me back into the present. She had been trying to get my attention for some time and was holding the watering can over my head threateningly.
“Sorry, what is it?” I asked, sheepishly tilting my head away from the watering can’s spout.
“Come and see how I did.” She asked, pulling the watering can back.
Standing, I followed her over to the planter. She stood proud as I bent over and inspected the soil. Some of the dirt had been over-watered, but it wasn’t too much, so the plants would be fine. Other than that, she had done a wonderful job.
“So? How is it?” She asked expectantly, holding her head high.
“Great job. They look like they’ll grow up strong and healthy.” I affirmed, nodding quickly.
“What are these, anyways? They’re just nubs right now.” She asked crouching next to me and gently prodding one of the bulbs.
“They’re called Prism Rain. They bloom late in the summer, so you should be able to see them when that time comes.” I explained, standing up. “Once they’re in full bloom, their petals change and almost look like glass. When the light shines through them, it makes a rainbow.”
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Turning to look at Charlotte, her eyes were wide and filled with excitement. Quickly, she snapped her head back to the plants, staring at them intensely.
“They’re not going to grow faster if you stare at them.” I spoke bluntly.
“Then you have to let me know immediately after they start blooming.” She demanded, snapping to a standing position so fast that she grew dizzy. Catching herself by grabbing onto me, she blushed and turned away.
Stretching, Charlotte started over to the pavilion and claimed the chair I had been sitting in for herself. Flashing a playful grin, she turned her head and pretended to ignore me.
Chuckling to myself, I followed after her and sat down on the ground beside the seat. This was the first time that we’d seen each other since the attack, but she had somehow changed so much. She was finally opening herself up and had finally been able to clear the storm of emotions inside of her, though her emotions had now become much stronger and complex. Unlike the emotions I felt from others which I was able to describe more easily, hers felt like an entire tome any time I tried to read them. Despite the complexity, though, I was able to glean that at her core, she wanted something.
After a moment of awkward silence, Charlotte blurted out. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” I asked, startled by her sudden apology.
“You shared a secret with me, but I went and told my father.” She explained, tightly clenching the sides of the chair.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I assured. “I’ve met your father. I’m sure you really didn’t want to tell him.”
Nodding her head, she released the chair and set her hands in her lap. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back against the wicker chair and closed her eyes. Focusing on her, I could feel fear. I couldn’t tell what she was afraid of, but I know what it’s like to be afraid. Reaching out, I set my hand on top of hers and watched her eyes flick open. She looked startled, then embarrassed, though she didn’t shoo my hand away. It wasn’t through my abilities, but seeing the pained, straining look in her eyes told me what it was that she was afraid of.
“You have nothing to fear.” I spoke simply.
My words, though short, seemed to have a strong impact on her as her hands began to tremble. Taking one of them out from under mine, she wiped a tear from her face and placed it back atop mine, gently squeezing it.
“I know I don’t, but… I just can’t forget…” She started, stifling sobs between her words. Gritting her teeth, she sucked in a breath and continued. “Whenever I close my eyes, I see those three. I see them pointing that weapon at me. Then I see you…”
“You know I would never hurt you.” I assured.
“I-I know you wouldn’t. That’s not what scares me.” She explained. “You almost died… because of me.”
From this point forward, the tears she had been holding back were flowing freely. She had finally come clean of what was weighing her down and was letting go. After letting her vent for a time, she calmed down and sucked a deep breath through her nose. Taking a handkerchief from a pocket, she carefully cleaned the tears from her face. Finishing, she met my gaze with her reddened eyes.
“All better?”’ I asked softly.
“Yeah.” She replied with a warm smile.
After gazing at each other for a time longer than either of us had intended, Charlotte flushed and looked down at her hands.
“Can I see them?” She mumbled.
“What?” I asked, unsure of what she meant.
“Your…wings.” She continued, whispering the word wings.
“Ah… yes. Come over here.” I whispered back, moving to stand.
Walking her back several steps, I investigated my surroundings, searching for any wandering eyes or possible points of view that others could happen upon. After ensuring that nobody was watching, I pushed with the new muscles I had felt develop in my back and with a grand motion, they pushed out from under my shirt. Feeling the discomfort of the wings being squished by my shirt, I withdrew them as Charlotte giggled, watching me struggle to take my shirt off. Laying the shirt on a nearby chair, I pushed again and felt the wings unfurl. Feeling the gentle breeze push through the feathers was pleasant, almost cathartic.
Cautiously, she stepped toward one of the wings. Having the time to actually see them when I’m not being attacked, they were beautiful. Each wing was larger than my whole body, though I would probably grow into their size. Slowly, Charlotte reached out a hand and brushed it against my feathers. It tickled slightly, but I could tell by her expression that this had raised Charlotte’s mood. Suddenly, to my surprise, she pressed her face against them and started to rub it back and forth.
“You’re so soft.” She spoke softly. “It’s like my face is being hugged by a cloud.”
After a minute of her hugging against my wing, she pulled her face back and composed herself. Seeing her reaction, I reached out and brushed the feathers and felt just how soft they were.
Looking back to Charlotte, I could immediately tell that she wanted to ask me something. “You want to ask me something?”
“I-well… I wanted to ask why you have wings in the first place.” She asked sheepishly. She was probably scared of learning another of my secrets in case her father came asking again.
“I inherited them from my mother.” I answered immediately.
“Your mother?” She asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes, she was an Arkan.” I elaborated.
“You mean those bird people? But I thought their wings were on their head.”
“They are.” I replied. “I’m more of a special case.”
Looking back to the wings, the image of my mother, in her time as my father’s prisoner, appeared in my mind. Dark, midnight blue eyes and green hair so pale that it almost looked white. Like other Arkan, the feature that distinguished her from humans was the set of small, bird-sized wings set on either side of her head, just above her ears. Folded back against her head, they were identical to the pair I bore in every aspect except size. Picturing my mother like this pained me. I desperately wanted to see her again, but there was no real way for me to find her.
Feeling that I’d had them out long enough, I withdrew the wings and reached out for my shirt just as Charlotte darted behind me, peeking at my back.
“Weird.” She spoke, surprised. “There’s nothing there.”
Reaching a hand around my back, I felt around, but felt nothing around where the wings had just been. An Arkan’s wings stayed where they were when not in use, for whatever they used them for, but mine had completely disappeared.
Slipping my shirt on over my head, I straightened it out and went to step forward when an intense pain clutched at my head.
Hundreds, no thousands of voices were crying out. Each and every voice was crying in agony, calling out desperately for help. The more time that passed only let more voices in and before I knew it, I had fallen to my knees. At this point, the voices grew so strong that all of my senses blacked out and it felt like I would die at any moment, but before I passed that point, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, grounding me. The voices didn’t go away all at once, but seemed to grow distant until they were far enough away that I couldn’t hear them.
Free from the oppressive pain, I took in a ragged breath and held my face in my hands. The arms around me let go as Charlotte stepped around to face me. Raising my head from my hands, I saw that both of them had been completely covered in blood.