I’m back in the same room that I woke up tied to a chair in. At least this time, I’m not tied to the chair.

The Chief has half a dozen open books scattered across her deck, mumbling to herself as she flicks back and forth between different pages. Tiff and Vann are standing on either side of the Chief’s desk, each looking through books of their own.

“Do you… guys need help, or-”

“Can you read Underlander?” The Chief cuts me off, without looking up at me. Underlander? Is that a language here?

“N-no.”

“Then your help isn’t needed.” She says, flicking through the pages of a particularly thick book.

They told me to keep my wings out while they look for… whatever they’re looking for, so they’re out from under the cloak, resting by my side. Even sitting in a chair, they’re big enough that they nearly touch the floor. Some of the largest feathers are longer than my legs, and the blade-feathers have nearly triple the reach of my arms at their full length. The fact that they can extend out so far, yet fully retract between the normal feathers to be perfectly hidden is almost like they were designed rather than, well… natural.

“Err, you don’t have to have them out like that, Marina…” Vann comments.

Oh. I didn’t notice that my left wing is fully outstretched, taking up a lot of space as I look over its feathers. These things really take up a lot of room.

As I’m looking at my left wing, the right wing bumps my shoulder with some force.

Did… Did you just hit me? For saying you take up space?

When I look at my right wing, the left hits my other shoulder.

“Wh- You?!”

I jump to my feet, grabbing one of my wings as it keeps trying to hit my shoulder. I get it, you don’t like what I called you, can you just stop-

“Marina!”

The Chief calls, raising her staff as golden chains materialise and wrap tightly around my wings, restraining them - and thus, me - as they struggle against the chains. Even as they struggle, though, the chains binding them don’t rattle against themselves, the only noise made is of the air being displaced as such a large surface area thrashes about.

Okay, wings, can you just… let’s just calm down, okay? If we calm down, the chains will go away, okay…?

My wings eventually settle, resting limply in the chains. The Chief sighs.

“If this really is what it is, this is going to be a problem…”

“What is “it”, then? Do you have answers for why I have, well… this?”

I say, gesturing out at the giant red wings flanking my sides. The Chief leans over her desk, giving me a look to keep quiet as she’s about to explain everything.

“From what I’ve read, you have a Gift; I’m not being ambiguous, that is the actual name of it. A Gift can take nearly any form, and it’s attached either internally or externally to a Damned. It’s not known how people receive Gifts or where they come from, but they exist. There are books that go over very loose definitions of the categories that Gifts can fall into; those that replace a body part, those that function as a new body part, and those that… have a mind of their own. This book has an example of a Damned with snakes on his shoulders that bit people, and eventually he died from the snakes biting him. With the way that you’ve described your relationship with your wings, it would seem that you fall into the latter category.”

Tiff steps forward, giving me a concerned look.

“If they rebel against you like that, it could mean they pose a danger to you. On top of the potential danger it poses to other people. You’ve already cut someone’s face. Next time could be worse.” Tiff sounds… uncharacteristically dire.

I look down at my wings. They remain motionless, still bound in golden chains.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when you first interrogated me?”

“Because we had only just met you, and I wanted to observe you for a time to ascertain the nature of your wings. As a soulseer I can read people easily, but sentient wings with a mind of their own are a different matter. Your actions… including the apparent fight with your wings just then conclusively prove that they are indeed a Gift.” The Chief explains. “Besides, you were our prisoner. You hadn’t earned our trust then.”

“But I have now…?”

“Well, you’ve earned some. You’ve been well-behaved and shown no malice so far.” She shrugs lightly.

“Does this Gift also explain how I died when I was fifteen, but here I look… several years older?”

“That… maybe. It isn’t clear on that. What is clear is that you’re not lying when you say you’re fifteen. You’ve earned some trust through your own effort, but I have absolute trust in my ability to read people. You’re not the type of person to lie, Marina.” She answers, crossing her arms.

“If Mia trusts you, then we trust you. Your wings, however…” Tiff says, glancing at my chained-up wings with concern.

Vann steps forward, putting a hand on Tiff’s shoulder to reassure her.

“Look, if she wanted to, or if her wings wanted to, I’m sure she could have easily cut her way out of being captured by the Expeditionary team earlier. I don’t believe that she poses such a threat, Tiff.” He says.

“I’m not so much worried about her hurting others as I am her hurting herself with them…” Tiff sighs a little, rubbing her elbow.

“Actually, I… sorta… let myself be captured. You guys had sweet food, and tents. I figured being your prisoner would probably be safer than trying to survive by myself out there.”

The Chief raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

“You certainly put a lot of trust in us, then. There’s far worse out there that could have grabbed you. Or eat you.”

“Trust that you made the correct guess to place, though.” Vann says, rubbing his chin.

“You know, there is another thing about our Marina here that I feel like no one has really questioned…” Tiff starts, walking up to me.

She then stops, giving a look back at the Chief over her shoulder. The Chief flicks her hand, and the golden chains fall away.

My wings start to withdraw themselves under my cloak… slightly hesitantly, as Tiff is now standing right beside me, closely watching as my wings nestle themselves completely within the unknown confines of this magical mantle. Tiff steps back, looking at the others as she gestures towards me.

“How in this fiery red hell do they do that?!”

“My uh… my cloak’s enchanted in some way.”

Vann raises an eyebrow.

“Waking up here with a magic item? That’s a silver lining.”

“I… didn’t wake up with it. Some old hooded guy I met shortly after I left that cave full of skulls gave it to me.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

The Chief looks like she didn’t hear me properly.

“What? “Some old hooded guy” gave you an enchanted cloak that perfectly hides your wings?”

“... Yes? I hoped I’d maybe run into him again here if you have anyone that fits that description.”

“Yvonne, the current schoolteacher and previous craftsmen representative, is the oldest person here. The only place I could imagine someone like that would be is the Keepsguard, but…” Vann starts.

“The Keepsguard aren’t known for their charity.” The Chief finishes.

“Keepsguard? Are they another group down here?”

“They operate out of a castle on the far side of the Abyss. They’re few in number, but have the best equipment, and are very hostile to outsiders.” Vann sighs, scratching a scar on his forearm.

Tiff, meanwhile, has been standing beside me, staring intently at my cloak.

“Can you… take it off with the wings inside it?” She asks.

I haven’t tried that, now that I think of it. I stand up, undoing the small hoops holding it around the front of my neck, shrugging my shoulders back. My cloak slides back off my shoulders, then stops falling once it gets caught on the base of my wings between my shoulderblades. Tiff starts to reach over.

“So, if I pull it back now…”

I grab Tiff’s wrist, pushing her back. Vann immediately grabs his shortsword, so I hastily let go of Tiff’s wrist.

“I- Tiff, the last time someone went to touch it without asking, my wings cut their face, so I’d rather that not happen again…”

“Right, right, sorry, I nearly let my curiosity get the better of me, aha…” Tiff chuckles sheepishly.

“You were warning of the dangers of them barely a few minutes ago…” Vann sighs, letting go of his shortsword and giving Tiff a look. Tiff shrinks back a little.

“Right, I also should have asked beforehand… they didn’t hurt Arshiya when she asked to touch them, so that seems to work.” She nods.

Hmm. Wings, can you shake off the cloak?

I immediately regret asking this as my wings start to thrash about under the cloak, trying to wriggle it off, shoving my back around in the process like I’m being dragged around by the back of my collar. Tiff and Vann step back, leaving me helpless as my wings struggle to free themselves from under the cloak.

“Uh, Marina, are you… okay…?” Vann asks, concerned.

“I’m… Fine, just my wings are… failing to get the cloak off themselves.”

Eventually, they seem to give up, falling limp. Which makes the cloak fall straight off. Evidently shocked, my wings curl inwards with their feathers splayed and flap a few times, in what looks to be the unmistakable, universal gesture of “Are you kidding me?”. I carefully pick up the cloak off the floor by its fur-lined upper hem. This is the first time I’ve taken it off since I first put it on… two days ago. Feels more like two years.

On closer inspection, the enchanted side looks noticeably darker than the other side; it doesn’t reflect the light, it just absorbs it. Holding it up to my face, I can’t see anything inside it, it’s just a black void of unknowable size that my wings have been quite comfortable with staying in.

“Can I…” Tiff asks, her eyes fixated on the cloak. Well, it’s not on my back, so my wings shouldn’t make a fuss over it.

“Sure, just make sure you grab it by the fur so your hand doesn’t-”

Tiff grabs it, holding it up with one hand and sticking the other straight into the enchanted side of the cloak, and sure enough, her hand goes straight through into whatever pocket dimension is attached to it.

“I’ve never held something like this before… How big is the inside?” Tiff says, in apparent awe.

“I have no idea, and I’m not inclined to stick my head in to find out.”

Tiff blinks, pondering for a moment.

“That’s probably not a good idea, yeah.” She agrees.

“It’s big enough to comfortably fit my wings, but I don’t want to put anything else in there in case it just… falls forever.”

At least, I think it’s a comfortable fit. Is it comfortable?

My wings give a small flap of acknowledgement. Good, I’m glad you’re comfortable, wings. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep on a real bed again. Tiff wanders over to show the Chief the cloak, while Vann steps up beside me.

“Say, Marina, while Tiffany is obsessing over your mantle, could you show me those wing-blades of yours?”

Without me asking them, my right wing happily flicks itself out to its full length in front of Vann, extending its four blade-feathers out and putting itself on proud display for Vann to admire.

Vann looks up and down the length, leaning down a little to take a closer look at the sharpened feathers extended out before him. My wings are usually more shy and flitty than this, but I guess they’ll happily show themselves off if someone asks.

Vann taps the blade-feather a few times, making a small metallic tinging noise.

“Interesting… they’re thin, but hard as steel, and sharp to boot. Do you know how you retract them?”

Before I can answer, the wing flaps once to get attention, then the four blades withdraw to different lengths - the innermost one fully withdrawing back into the wing, while the other three stay out at short, medium, and full length. Vann looks impressed. I’m impressed. I didn’t even know they could do that individually.

“Ah, so they’re layered on top of each other to give extra reach… They move quickly, too. Hmm.”

Vann chuckles a little, turning to me.

“Could you follow me outside, Marina?”

…

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Standing behind the library in a small yard. Tiff and Mia are by the back door, and Vann is standing across from me, holding some red, overripe-looking fruit with a bucket full of them beside him.

“S-so… what are we doing out here, Vann?”

Vann chuckles, tossing and catching the fruit. It looks… like it’ll make a mess.

“We’ll be testing your reaction speed, Marina. Catch.”

“Catch? Wh-”

I blink, and the red fruit is flying straight at me before I have a second to react. I reflexively shut my eyes - rather than being hit square in the face, a spray of cold liquid hits my neck. Opening my eyes, I see the fruit hanging limply from my right wing’s blade-feather, before it falls to the ground with a splat.

Huh. I guess you are pretty fast, wings. Alright, if this what we’re doing, then I’ll be ready for the next-

I jerk to the side as my left wing swats away another incoming fruit. It then shakes itself, trying to get the sticky, wet fruit off its feathers. Vann laughs.

“Unless you want to get covered in bloodseed fruit, you should consider dodging instead of blocking.”

Another fruit comes flying at me, so I step aside as fast as possible, but it still hits my wing. Okay, wings, if we don’t want to get filthy again, we have to move together. When I move, you move-

Another incoming fruit makes my wings violently jerk me forward, avoiding the fruit this time. Alright, that worked, but not so violent next time!

More fruit. Faster. If I focus, I can avoid most of it, like I know how fast it’s coming and where it’ll hit. Just focus, don’t get hit, and we’ll get through this.

“Woo! Go, Marina!” Tiff cheers.

Heh, I’m getting the hang of th-

“Blergghhk?!”

I’m knocked on my arse as I’m hit square in the face. The Chief laughs. Sticky, kernel-shaped seeds cling to my face as I wipe off the skin of the fruit. It smells, and tastes, like… pomegranate.

“We’re not done yet, Marina!” Vann calls, throwing another fruit at me.

I jump to my feet, my right wing flicking upwards to intercept the fruit and cleanly slicing it in half. Rather than neatly falling to the floor, though, this move just gets seeds all over the wing, which shakes itself vigorously to try to get it off. At least I’m back on my feet, I’ll dodge the next one- Nope, it hits me in the chest. Alright, next one-

Nope, back on the ground. My wings fall limp, defeated. Another fruit hits my forehead. I lost. I’m covered in dirt and pomegranate juice. Did I really wake up in another world just to die via a fruit barrage?

Vann, Tiff, and the Chief walk up, standing over me. Vann nods.

“Well, you did well enough. With the right training, we’ll make a capable warrior out of you.”

“Do fights down here involve fruit-based projectiles?”

“They sometimes do, actually.” The Chief comments, crossing her arms.

“Do I have to stay like this in shame until told otherwise?”

“No, Tiff will take you to the baths… right, Tiff?” The Chief sighs, and Tiff nods.

Vann extends a hand to help me up, which I take. He chuckles, wiping the pomegranate juice off his hand.

“Just, uh… don’t tell Anton I used a bucket of bloodseed fruit for training purposes, alright?”

“Alright, alright… I suppose it’s fitting that the Underlands has pomegranates…” I mumble to myself, but Tiff overhears and gives me a confused look.

“Pomegranate?” She asks.

“The uh… the bloodseed fruit. Something similar grew near my hometown, we called it pomegranate. Can I go wash myself off now…?”

Tiff smiles, leading me back towards the Crystalfall, so I follow along behind her.

Technically, it’s a lie of omission to say pomegranates grew near my hometown.

It’s not the hometown they’d be thinking of.