I bite down on the dry biscuit and enjoy the feeling of it almost evaporating in my mouth. While waiting at the side of the barracks for Finn to return, I try to calm my trembling fingers. I no longer feel like I’m trapped and unable to escape, but my body still seems to refuse to calm down.

When Finn handed me a tin of his biscuits, my sizzling skin melted the paint right off the lid. He told me not to worry, but I still feel bad about it.

Thinking about what happened is almost as terrifying as the experience itself. I’d lost control of my body and thoughts. I’d gone into a panic trying to get out and I was lucky I hadn’t hurt Finn in my haste to burn through the door.

Footsteps drag me out of my funk, and I look up at Finn.

“You feeling better now?” He asks as he sits beside me.

“Yep, your biscuits taste great.” I hold my hands together to hide the shaking. “Sorry about the door. I really don’t know why I acted like that.”

“Don’t worry about it. One of the boys will have it fixed up by the end of the day.”

We sit in silence while I eat another biscuit from the tin. Eventually, Finn speaks. “What do you plan to do now? I don’t know how long you’ve been outside Zadok, but the failed invasion has sent everyone mad. It’ll be impossible to get through the wall now. I’m sorry, but I do not know where you can go.”

“I’m gonna find my friends in the northern states.”

Finn turns to me with furrowed brows. “That’s going to be impossible. There’s no way north that doesn’t have you passing the wall or through the Theocracy.”

I fail to suppress my smirk. Finn is missing one small little detail.

“Oh, it’ll be easy. I’ll just fly over.” I smile wide at him, knowing how impossible the idea of flying would have been two weeks ago.

“Fly? What?” he blinks at me.

“Yep. I can fly now!” I might have even transformed right there. Unfortunately, it still takes me a while to switch forms, so it’ll be weird to wait around for fifteen minutes to show off.

“Right…”

What? He doesn’t believe me, does he? Well, I wanted to avoid this, but I guess there’s no choice now.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll prove it.”

My body returns to the flickering of flame as I morph back into my falcon form.

“What are you doing?” Finn rises to his feet and takes a step away from my sudden blazing body.

He’s unnecessarily worried. Really, it still surprises me how much these people are startled by a tiny bit of fire. It’s not like I’m hurting myself. I need to remember fire is like water to them, just the presence can be enough to make them nervous.

A few minutes of awkward silence passes before the process is done, and my voice comes back.

“See? Easy.” I flap my wings and fly up to sit on the roof of the barracks. “I can get over that wall, no issue.”

“Wow,” is all Finn can manage as he stares up at me.

In this form, I’m still readily visible; flames not being the stealthiest of things to have feathers made of. The only other guard in the courtyard other than Finn stares with a slack jaw. It’s probably bad to feel this way, but I enjoy their awed looks as they observe the form I put so much effort into crafting.

“Right, well, that explains how you appeared south without passing through the fort.”

“Ah no. I only learnt to do this a few days ago. Some things happened and I got tangled in the war in New Vetus.” I don’t want to go into detail about what happened, so I only give him a vague explanation.

“Thank you for your help, Finn. And thanks for the biscuits, they’re tasty,” I say from my ledge.

Finn finally snaps out of his daze. “Solvei, before you go, I should tell you it’ll be best if you don’t return to this fort. The ursu are bound to invade us in the coming days and when that happens, there is little chance this place will remain safe.”

“You will get out before then, right?” I ask, now worried about his safety.

He smiles at me and nods. “Be careful out there, Solvei.”

I smile back and wave goodbye, before realising I can’t smile and my wing probably makes the motion look odd.

“See-ya.” With a sweep of my wings, I’m once more soaring through the air. The wind against my feathers finally calming my remnant trembles.

It’ll be annoying, but I might have to avoid going inside buildings again in case I have another panic attack like that. Rainy days are going to be miserable.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I angle north, ready to fly as far as I can before night hits.

❖❖❖

The wall is a sight to see. I never actually got a look at it when I was in Kelton last, but now that I have a literal bird's-eye view, it’s thoroughly impressive. The stone wall extends as far as I can see from west to east.

Unlike the fort, the wall is not lacking in soldiers. It’s almost to an excessive degree considering they had less than ten albanics manning the fort.

I glide over it with hardly a flap. It’s almost anticlimactic how easy it is considering the past difficulty we had getting through. Would I be able to carry them over now? I doubted it. Even with the largest wingspan I could make, I doubt I’d come close to being able to lift another person. Also, considering I don’t have full control over my flames in this form, it’d be hard to say if I can refrain from burning them.

With the sun setting, I opt to search for a place to rest before I become even more visible in the sky than I already am.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I drop into a dive. The stables approach with thrilling speed. I pull up at the last moment and hide myself inside. A pholo resting within startles at my sudden appearance, shrieking through the enclosed space. I land on a wooden beam and motion for the pholo to calm down.

Maybe it was stupid to fly in without checking first, but the exhilaration of diving and my prioritisation of not letting my sleeping space be discovered encouraged me to disregard my usual cautiousness.

The pholo won’t calm down, so I launch myself back in the air before anyone can come looking. For now, I’m hidden well enough against the reds and yellows painting the sky from the setting sun, but if I take too long I’ll be a beacon to all as I try to find a place to nap.

I find another open air stable, this time with no pholos ready to screech my presence to all around.

Comforted by the many openings in the surrounding walls, I settle down and revert my form. As great as flying feels, being a bird just doesn’t feel as natural as my normal form.

I curl up on a pile of straw, heating myself to ward off the cold. The days are getting colder. Soon, winter will hit with full force and I’ll feel nothing but the lethargy as with most years.

I used to get sick every winter with my tribe, but hopefully I’m strong enough now that I won’t need to worry. Even if I don’t get sick, I still hope to find my friends before the torpid month arrives.

Winter was usually the only time in a year we would stop travelling as a tribe. We would set up with resources stockpiled in the months prior and rest. To keep our body temperatures from plummeting through winter, we would spend most of our time within the gers, sharing the warmth and limiting our energy consumption.

I could always push through the cold with my own strength, but the amount of food I need to consume would multiply. With so many resources around, I doubt it’ll be a problem, but I still would rather be with the others before the fatigue set in.

Well, I still have a few weeks before the worst of the chill hits. That should be plenty of time.

❖❖❖

The scar left by the Void Fog is quite the sight. From high above, I can see the extensive basin now half drowned in water. Much of the edges of where the fog touched must have collapsed and slid into the scar, filling the once smooth surface with debris and loose rock. The remains of people’s homes visible amongst the stone and dirt.

I glide over the vast newborn canyon toward the stream of water trickling over the ledge. The creek I last saw my friends comes into view. While I know there is little chance I’ll find anything left behind of them, I still want to try.

The area we separated was consumed by the fog, but I fly low over the edge looking for something. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Old tracks in the ground or maybe one of them dropped something that’ll let me know they weren’t consumed as well. After such a long time has passed, there is probably nothing to be found, especially considering I don’t know exactly where they ran after we split.

A congregation of albanic in my peripheral vision pulls my attention from scouring the ground. Many stand around a sculpted wooden pillar in silence. Around them are thousands of tents. These tents aren’t like the large circular gers I’m used to, instead they are small things at most enough to house two people. The triangular tarps look like they will topple with the slightest gust.

I glide down and land on the branch of a tree. Close enough to see, but hopefully hidden by the foliage.

An albanic approaches the pillar holding a ring of carved wood. They lift the ring and link it to a chain of near identical rings circling the pillar. Once she twists the ring into place, the albanic bows her head and turns to the rest. As she returns, another steps forward and does the same.

It’s an odd thing, witnessing the albanic’s funeral. That is what this is, without a doubt. The solemnity. The silence. The emotion that permeates the air. Nothing else brings that same feeling. It is almost enough to have me tearing up even though I don’t know whom they mourn, simply because of the memories it dredges from within.

The people they mourn. Were they devoured by the Void Fog as well? Are they dead, or simply still trapped within?

Do these people even know it’s possible their family might still be alive?

Well, if they don’t, it’s probably for the best. If they haven’t escaped yet, it’s not likely freedom will come to them soon.

My wings launch me off my perch and I fly over the tents. I consider transforming to ask around, but it’ll take too long to do so and switch back for such a low chance that someone might have seen them.

I spot someone pointing up towards me and shouting to her neighbours. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. They’ve already spotted me, I might as well ask if they’ve seen Ash and the others.

I angle my wings to bring me down until I land on a table only a few metres from the woman. Her eyes are wide and staring as she backs up a few steps from me.

“Hi,” I say. “Have you seen a group of… uh,” I realise I didn’t think about how I could describe them that might differentiate them from any other albanic in the area. “Did you see a lady travelling with a group of teenagers about a month ago?”

Unfortunately, the woman doesn’t respond, her eyes widening further than I thought was possible. I’m about to ask again when a man runs around the side of a tent with a shovel and stands before the woman.

“Shoo, fowl. Shoo.” He swings his shovel at me, but doesn’t get close.

Fowl? Did he just call me a chicken? I look down at my carefully crafted fiery plumage. I’m obviously a falcon, can’t he see that? A huff comes out of my beak as I glare at the man. I’m not a chicken.

Flames roil across my body at the indignation. I notice it happen and immediately clamp down on the annoyance I feel. Really, my control suffers when I’m not in my base form. It’s not even worth getting angry about, anyway.

A sigh escapes me before I ask again to the gathering crowd. “About a month ago, did anyone see a group of teenagers and a woman walking north from here? It would have been right after the Void Fog showed up.”

The silence following my words lasts only a moment before the raucous chatter starts. Amongst the conversations, the first woman I talked to finally gathers her wits and steps forward past the man with the shovel.

“Uh, there were many people who moved in and out of the town at the time, so it’ll be hard to say,” she says. “Miss birdie, what are you?”

“Miss birdie,” I repeat under my breath. She could at least refer to me as something a bit cooler than that. Anyway, how often will I have to repeat that I’m an áed? I can imagine it’ll be a lot considering that most who know of us — which there won’t be many if my time in Kelton is indicative — don’t know we can shift shapes. Elder Enya spent decades to do this much and I’m very much an oddity now that I think about it.

So instead, I want to have a bit of fun. “What do you think I am?” I ask with as smug of a tone as I can manage.

She and many of the others around gape at me, calming much of the chatter.

“You can’t be, can you? One of his messengers?”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it looks like they took the bait and took a — probably wrong — guess about what I am. I try to exude an air that I’m impressed they figured it out. Even if I’m not sure what they figured out.

Suddenly, each of them kneel before me with lowered heads.

Uh… that’s a bit more than I expected.

I expected them to some animal that learnt to talk, or at worst, think I was some monstrous creature. I was prepared to fly away if they got aggressive, but I wasn’t prepared for this. Blatant worship. What exactly do they think I am?

“Oh, Belobog’s messenger. Thank you for blessing us after such a disaster. It means the world to us that we remain in his heart.”

“Uh...” What do I do? I can’t tell them I’m not who they think I am; they’d be crushed. Or pissed.

“Well, I should be going. There's somewhere I need to be.” I try to brush them off and take to the skies again.

“Wait,” One of them calls. A middle-aged man with a strong build throws himself before me. “Before you leave, please take care of the Void-touched. We can’t reach our grain silos and the albicants refuse to send the army.”

Void-touched?

“I really need to be going though,” I say, trying not to be pulled into their mess.

Many more of the albanic before me throw themselves at my feet… talons. “Please,” they plead, almost in sync.

Looking over them I can’t help but feel sympathetic. I remember a time when I wished I was given a helping hand, a magic solution to my problems. I also remember my trust being betrayed. Gloria taking advantage of me taught me a valuable lesson; I’m not about to trust these people farther than I can throw them.

On the other hand, Ash and the others never let me down when I thought they would, so maybe it’ll be fine to help just a little. I’ll fly off as soon as something suspicious happens.

Really, the only reason I’m even considering this is that I don’t have to worry so much about getting hurt anymore. Unless whatever it is has the same strange sword the General had, I’ll be fine.

“What is a Void-touched?”