The rooftop opened to the rupture in the sky. Farther out, stars still twinkled. At the center of the roof, the swimming pool was surrounded by candles and filled with laughing children.

“Duy!” shouted Lasha.

“Prepare to die, orphan!” The boy stripped off his shorts and dove into the dark, glistening water.

Candles flickered on tabletops where the youth congregated. At the far side of the roof, on an elevated platform, a group of older teens sat in a circle enthralled by the rhythm of a drum player, the melody of a boy on a pipe, a plump girl’s soft song, her voice rising up in a story of love and hope.

Across the pool, Jane recognized Ciris. She was speaking closely with Hung when she caught her eye, gave a half wave, and headed in her direction. Her chest was bare, and about her waist she had wrapped a sheer sarong of white that glittered with threads of gold.

“It’s impressive,” Jane said.

“These are the Black Scorpion’s soldiers,” said Ciris.

“Soldiers? They are only children.”

“Yes, but many of them have battled the hunters. Look. That girl there.” She indicated a girl with a shaved head clinging to the arm of a muscular lad. “That’s Raisa. She’s killed five hunters by herself. The boy, Dao, is her lover. He’s equally lethal.”

“In America, children don’t fight.” Even as she spoke it, she wondered if it was true.

“They will,” said Ciris.

“Not if I can prevent it,” said Jane.

“I hope you can.” The girl sounded doubtful. Her eyes caught something that made her tense. “He’s here,” she whispered.

The boy exited the elevator and approached them. He did not look a day over thirteen.

“Hi,” he said, his gaze traveling her body.

“Hi,” she said.

Their eyes met and held.

“I’m sorry,” Ciris whispered.

“Time,” he replied. “It goes so fast.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“S’okay. You were helping the Viking and the witch.”

Jane stepped back, sensing they ought to be alone.

Ciris took her wrist. “This is the one the promise is for. She is a queen. She thinks she can fight it.”

“Pray it,” said the Black Scorpion. “But I doubt it.”

“I will,” said Jane. With my life, for a world that I cannot remember.

The boy looked up at her. He was small, but agile and strong. “I will ask the orb,” he said. “Did you find my sister?”

“The Dreamer dreams in the bed of the witch’s enchantment. I saw her clearly as I see you now. The Sisters are waiting for her to wake up. But the witch says she is still in the Veil.”

He nodded pensively. “You’re almost a woman, hunter.”

Ciris touched her breasts. “And you’re a man now,” she said.

“Fuck! I’m a little boy as young as the day you left.”

“But wiser.”

“Hah! I am a freak!”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“See.” He pulled off his shirt and turned. The wings unfolded from his body and stretched out. The scales of a reptile, shifting hues of blue and green in the dim and flickering candles, blended into the soft, black feathers of a bird and his own smooth skin to cover the rippling musculature of the appendages. The wings spanned twice his length and the large, broad feathers at the tips spread and nearly touched the deck. He beat them, sending a gust of air across her face.

“You’re beautiful,” said Ciris, reaching out.

“Stop!” he said. “Don’t touch!”

She pulled back abruptly. He came up to her. She ran her hand over his head and pulled him by the back of his neck toward her. She kissed him… lightly at first. Then he kissed her deeply, holding her arms so she could not embrace him.

“You left me for a long time,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re back now.” He turned his head up to the sky. “A great battle is coming, but we’re going to live. We’re going to fight for life. We have a force. They’ve all been touched by the orb. But we need more Maji. Warriors! Those who can pull from the veil especially.”

“I bring you two orphans, shape shifters, and the youngest has a tongue of fire, so whatever language they speak in the Chaos, he will teach you with a kiss.”

“Boys! I need men who can throw a chant! Men who can rip stone from the earth and hurl it like a rocket!”

“They will touch the orb, and they will learn its lessons,” said Ciris. “They will swear their lives to you.”

“This is the end,” he said. “Any day now.”

“Norse the Viking lives,” said Ciris with defiance.

“You know it for true?”

“I do. He is kept in the dungeon of the Den.”

“Where is this dungeon? I will go and free him.”

“In this queen’s kingdom.” Ciris gripped Jane’s arm.

“I will follow my teacher if fate holds we meet again. I need to learn the defensive postures in his hand style.”

“You would attack this armada, Maji?” asked Ciris.

“I would do it with the Viking.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“You would do anything with him.”

The boy spun around, his wings spreading, arching up over his head. “And I would do it with you! Will you come with me? Up there!” He gestured to the great ship lit with still fire, the crashing oblivion.

“I will fight at your side,” she said.

“When Norse left, he said he would bring the Maji. But I wait and wait. Too long, his roughened face fades from my nightly dreams. I miss his friendly jabs. But now I know he is alive, though slave to those hungry bitches.”

“The promise hinges on the queen,” said Ciris. “Will you bless her with the orb?”

“The orb will speak to me in its time, and I will know.”

“Duy? You let him touch it.”

“He was gone for three days with it. I’ve seen him take several forms and hold them for a fortnight. A cat, a hawk, a coyote. He’s still discovering the breadth of his library. So, if you see a delicate little mouse with big ears, don’t step on him or eat him.”

“I’ll try to control myself.”

“Well, tell it to your orphans too.”

“I want to hang out,” said Ciris. “Show me the city and what has changed.”

“Have you ever been a sparrow?”

“No.”

He grabbed the girl’s arm, pulled her to him, and kissed her. “You’re taller, hunter. I like your taste.”

“Just a year,” she whispered next to his lips.

“Ten years,” he said. “I’m bolder now.”

Jane recognized the look of the hopelessly in love. There was a spark of light, like a thin thread of rainbow fire was pulled from the ether, and two little birds flitted in the air atop the Majestic, overlooking the nighttime city—and in a flutter, they were gone.

Days and nights drifted by like spider’s silk carried on a lazy summer breeze. She became familiar with the children and the sprawling hotel they inhabited. They were rough, orphans many, runaways, veterans of magical battles she could not comprehend.

There was the shy girl, Thuy, who had fallen in love with Stefan; she brought the chay each morning a few minutes after sunrise on a silver tray beneath a silver lid. If the girl had nothing else to do, and if Ciris was nowhere to be found, for she feared the changeling, she would sit and describe the endless and convoluted drama amongst the Maji: love, broken hearts, fights, alliances, the party that was thrown in secret on the seventh-floor last night, another tonight on the tenth.

“Why don’t you come? We can go together!”

So-and-so had discovered an unknown gift or developed a new enchantment, news of midnight missions into the city to hunt down a stray hunter, rumors the Scorpion has inherited a gang of pickpockets down by the markets, summaries of strategy meetings between the winged boy and his lieutenants…

Jane would sit by the large window and watch the city wake up in the warmth of the sun beneath the torn sky as she drank the sweet, steaming, milky concoction and listened to Thuy’s narrative. She was always interested in what the girl had to say and the animated enthusiasm with which she said it, though sometimes her mind would drift during the romantic bits. There was endless speculation about the Black Scorpion and Ciris. Sometimes, they both vanished for days on end, or sometimes it was just him, and others, only Ciris. Depending on the day, they were either madly in love, or ready to rip each other’s eyes out.

She began to suspect the drink was a narcotic that could induce a low-grade hypnotic trance, but it also brought an ease of respiration and calmness of mind. “That’s good,” she would utter, or think, smack her lips, and hold the glass up to the light like a shard. There was, informed Thuy, an old woman in the city who lived beneath a karaoke parlor. She had taught her the art of divination by reading the swirls of the oily rainbow in the creamy broth.

There was Vay, who guarded her door during the day. She had seen him in his lean and angular human form only once when he lounged by the pool. He was usually a gray cat but sometimes a loyal mutt. He slept across from the door to her chamber with his back against the wall, above him the photograph of the old man fishing. When she left to explore, he questioned her with worried eyes but did not prevent her.

And Nawt of the night watch, a small youth, dark of skin with a brooding character and scars from battles he never mentioned. He would pass his shifts with a candle and a book, but sometimes when he was happy, he knocked on her door and told her about his loves and his dreams and that he wanted to be a rap star. So, he would chant out his newest song, beating the rhythm on his leg. His lyrics were always of love and death, and when he sang, he could barely keep control of his beast, flashing wild eyes and glinting fangs.

There were the double demons of Duy and Lasha, who quarreled and loved with equal passion, a devil of gold and a devil coal. Lasha gave Duy a language that was impenetrable to all, composed of trills, guttural stops, and haunting, hair-raising ululations that echoed the halls and stairwells of the Majestic Hotel. And Duy taught Lasha his bestiary.

One bright night beneath the light of the full, crimson moon, there came a knock on the Queen’s Chambers door. The two boys begged admittance that Duy might show Lasha, in some privacy, the form of the falcon.

“It’s not that hard,” said Duy, “but it’s the hardest because you need to consider every feather and three dimensions of flight.”

“M’lady.” Addressing her in the honorific, Lasha bowed. “Hast thou been remembering thy homeland?”

“It’s coming slowly. Every day a memory occurs to me,” Jane said.

“Wouldst thou tell me?” said the boy with a sparkle in his eye.

“Well, I know that it is vast. There are seas and mountains, and deserts and great cities.”

“Wow! I want to go! Are there Maji? Are there hunters?” The questions were composed of fear and doubt but tinged with hope.

“Yes, the Maji are there. And also the hunters.”

The boy looked down at his dirty feet. “Is there no place to run?”

She brushed his hair out of his eyes and stroked his soft cheek.

“What’s it called again? I forget,” he said.

“We call it America. The United States of America,” she said.

“Merrica,” he trilled. “It’s a beautiful name. Has the moon turned to blood yet? Has the—”

“Focus!” Duy slapped him on his ass. This instigated an impromptu wrestling match on the plush sofa that bore no winner.

Breathless and sweating, Duy said, “Lasha, if you can take this beast, you can fly away, go anywhere you want. Fly above the hunters and shit on their heads! You’ll be free!”

“Fly up there?” Lasha pointed to the rift. It appeared larger and brighter tonight.

“No, idiot! That’s in space. Do you know nothing about science?”

“Science?”

“Yes,” responded his pedantic friend. “The laws of science say that if you fly too high, you’ll catch the rays of the sun without the protection of the atmosphere. Your feathers will instantly catch fire and burn you up. Poof!”

“Poof!” mimicked Lasha. He narrowed his eyes and shot an unbelieving glance at Jane.

“Tell him, Queen,” said Duy.

She nodded gravely. “It’s true, but just before you poof, you’ll freeze to death. Your brain will become an ice cube.”

Terror covered Lasha’s face. “Why the hell would you want to be a hawk?”

Duy sighed. “Don’t be a bumpkin.”

“I’m not a bumpkin!”

“I’ll teach you how to fly. It’s amazing from up there!” He pointed to the sky. “You can truly see what the city is. You can see a mouse in the shadow in the alley at midnight. You can see people fucking on the rooftops. Come on!”

He pulled Lasha onto the wide balcony. “Watch.” He started flapping his arms. “That’s how you fly.”

Lasha repeated the movement.

“When you’re a human, your bones are heavy, and you don’t have feathers. But when you’re the hawk, the air becomes like water, and you can swim through it like a giant swimming pool, only better.”

“I don’t wanna fall.” Lasha looked over the rail to the street far below.

“The only way you’ll fall is if you close your wings and don’t flap. Are you ready?”

Lasha nodded, giving Jane one final, uncertain look.

Duy approached his friend. “Just need to drop these.” The boys giggled as his fingers worked his shorts down his slender legs. Then Duy shucked off his own and kicked them to the side.

Exposed in the rufescent light, Duy looked into the eyes of his friend Lasha, took his face in his hands, and kissed him gently on the lips. When they parted, they were breathing heavily, as if the air had become water.

Duy spread his arms, and they were lined with feathers tipped in black. He slapped them to his sides and with a jerk lifted into the air. The hawk landed on the balustrade.

Lasha looked at his arms. Feathers were growing out of his flesh. “Oh!” he gasped, arched his back, spread out his arms, and threw back his head, flapping and flopping fowlishly on the deck of the balcony.

Kik-kik-kik, chirped Duy, lifting off.

Lasha screeched, flapped his wings, and he too stumbled into the airy realm. It took him only a few tries of lifting and falling within the circumference of Duy’s agile loops. Suddenly, they were both buoyant, flying, soaring higher and higher beyond the buildings until Jane could no longer track them.

She gazed up at the sky, searching for them. The city was quiet tonight. She heard a hawk cry, and two winged silhouettes crossed the face of the bloody moon. Her heart thudded in her chest with hope for them; a sensation she was sure only a mother could feel for her own children.

The fissure sparkled and crackled above. A flare arched through the night, lighting the city all around her.

She stooped, picked up the two pairs of shorts strewn on the floor, neatly folded them, and set them on a small, round table.