An angelic dame with wings as bronze as Remin’s star sat atop the edge of the clouds, staring with eyes full of sorrow.

Staring down into the golden fields and evergreen forests of Uninlend above which her legs dangled.

And as she so sat, that quiet night, she reminisced of her childhood… And of her dearest sister, which the gods blessed with the name Aniera.

That sweet girl with dark skin and eyes as golden as Et’s blazing ring, with hair that curled like a dark halo around her head…

Two years.

Two years have passed since she had last seen her littlest sister.

Two years since her golden laugh graced her ears, and since her very own smile graced her face.

Two years since she disappeared into the night, never to return to Irilend, the land above the clouds…

Two years of tears ran down the bronze-winged maid's jade eyes, yet she was not allowed to weep.

“Khif!” A voice called out from behind her.

“Khif!” It called again.

“Cirinea!”

A warm blanket covered her shivering dark hands, as the tall man approached her.

He sat down next to her, covering her once again with one of his white wings.

His dark hand intertwining with hers as he began to speak once again.

“My khif, why are you out on this one-mooned night? You might get sick!”

To those watching, his words were warm, comforting even.

But they were cold.

It was all cold.

The blanket, his embrace,his gaze… cold.

“Ah, husband! I did not expect you to follow me out here…”

Crimea spoke in her soft, meek voice looking at her husband.

A smile was spread across Atrierionin’s face, but his red eyes gleamed with anger.

“I expected you to be home a few hours ago… Poor Tragery has been waiting for his mother to put him to bed!”

“Is it already so late, husband? I must apologise, I have just been thinking… It has been two years since Ani-”

“It has been two years since your sister ran off to fuck some wingless bastard! Is that really an excuse to ignore your duties and your son!?”

There it is.

The anger.

Atrierionin’s ever-present anger, one that fit his name,

“Rage of Erionin”, his godly father, the god of war.

Yet she could not retaliate, one word and her face would meet his hand again.

“It… It is not, husband. I shall return home at once, if our dearest son misses me so…”

She gets and begins to walk towards the building just a dozen steps away, but he grabs her hand.

“Oh khif, he has long fallen asleep. You took so long that I put him to bed…”

He grinds out through his teeth, as if it isn’t his duty as a father.

And here he goes again… Complaining about their son, their precious son.

“What is the matter, husband?”

“His wings, khif. They still haven’t grown.”

“He is simply a late bloomer, husband. So was I-”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

A sharp, stinging pain begins to spread across her face, as passing angels hasten their step.

She feels the tears swelling in her eyes, but she mustn’t cry.

It will only make things worse.

“A late bloomer is five, khif! Not eight!”

He argues as he drags her to the house.

“Something is wrong with him! It has to be!”

He growls as she struggles to escape his grasp.

“He is not on par with his agemates! He refuses to even hold a sword! No son of mine should be scared of a sword of all things!”

“Maybe he ju-”

Another slap, as if her word is not important.

For to him it is not.

“He is the son of a general, khif! There is no ‘just’! He should fight! He should be strong!”

He thunders as she reaches for his stricken face.

“I am his mother! He is the child of bo-”

Another slap.

“It does not matter, khif! I have over four thousand years of knowledge! What is your pathetic twenty-four years compared to that?!”

He huffs

“That boy is a failure! A pathetic excuse for a son! I would say that I need to make another one, but we cannot, can we?!”

He says with disgust, disgust at her body.

At what he had caused.

This time, she does not respond, wary of another slap.

“I need to find a second wife. One that is younger and can give me a son.”

“Younger”… “Younger” as if she was old.

Of course he wanted a younger wife.

Of course he wanted to marry another child.

Yet the look on his face is that of joy, as if he is not a monster.

“As for you, khif, you will still have to do your wifely duties. But you have failed the duty of giving me a proper heir.”

“Perhaps one of our daughters would have been that…”

She whispers, yet he hears her loud and clear.

“What was that, khif?!”

He grabs her by the neck and lifts her up into the air, choking her.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”

She does not respond, unable to breathe.

He throws her down onto the ground, slamming her spine against the cold stone floor.

“I need no daughter, khif! If I did, we would have one now!”

He begins to beat her, hitting her with his legs.

Her screams echoed through the house, as they did almost every evening.

Yet no one ever came to help her…

But this time… Little footsteps came running down the stairs.

Tragery.

“Daddy! Daddy! Please stop!”

The little boy’s screams fill her ears,he begs his father to stop… But she knows he won’t.

“Daddy, please! Stop hurting mommy!”

“Quiet child! This is between me and my khif, not you!”

He strikes the child as she desperately tries to get up, to protect her son.

But it is too late.

He slams the child to the ground and puts his foot on his chest.

He looks her in the eyes as he does so, and then… a crunch.

A terrible, terrible crunch fills her ears as her precious boy lies on the ground, his own father’s foot crushing his chest as if it were a mere crumb.

As if he was nothing.

“Oh my… Now I most definitely need a second wife…”

The demigod laughs with the most disgusting rumble she has ever heard.

Such a foul, foul sound.

She has just lost the only thing she had to live for…

She gets up and runs.

Runs for her life, out of the house, out of that cursed place.

She spreads her wings and flies, flies for the second time ever in her life.

A storm rages on as she flies, the wind pushes her back, the rain drenches her wings…yet she still flies.

Until a loud crunch echoes through her ears once again, and she spirals down towards the ground.

A lightning bolt, Erionin’s spear.

As the sounds of the storm are drowned out by the sounds of the raging river below, the river to which she is plummeting to as a fallen star would to the ground, she sees a smile through the clouds…

The smile of Norineda.

Then all light ceases and her breath is knocked from her chest.