Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties

by Kellie Doherty

  Misti’s memories washed over her, filling her, consuming her. The blood. The broken bodies. The sharp scent of rotting flesh. She blinked the memories away but couldn’t blink away these fresh images before her, nor deafen the animals’ plaintive cries.

  In that moment, Misti knew what she had to do. One look in Dylori’s direction told her that she probably didn’t need Misti’s assistance. The worshipper woman was on her knees, both eyes dripping orange lines down her cheeks. Good—a basilisk Vagari couldn’t transform a person into stone like their slithering counterparts, but they could paralyze someone and cut them to ribbons. Misti shuddered. She’d seen many Moon Knights lose a limb before being saved. Yet surely Dylori could take care of a single Vagari cut off from her main crafting ability.

  Misti turned back to the beasts chained to the rocks, trying to assess who would need help first. An ashray could survive a little while outside of the water. The thunderclap didn’t look like it had been cut. That left the neades and the dragon. Both creatures had severe wounds that would soon kill them, but she could save them. She had to.

  Rushing past the ashray and knocking the goddess statue over in her hurry, she dropped to her knees by the dragon’s side, her heart thudding in her chest. Her own crafting glazed her sight orange faster than ever before as Misti gently touched the dragon’s scaled neck. It was so scared, in so much pain, that it didn’t communicate with her even though it was certainly old enough to do so. Horror skittered under her skin at the sight of its wounded tail. How could anyone do this? Undeterred, she dipped into her own reserves, calling up her strength, her health, her calm, and giving it to the dragon, settling its screeching cries. Slowly, her crafting healed the dragon’s tail, fresh lime-green skin closing over the wound like it had never been. The dragon’s labored breaths slowed, its pain-glazed eyes fluttering shut. The tail would never grow back, which would hamper its ability to fly, but the dragon would survive.

  Misti moved to the neades now. It had stopped struggling, choosing to lie on its side, foaming at the jaw, black eyes rolled back. Misti’s heart cracked, and her fear fluttered into anger. Misti knelt next to the neades’ shoulder, placing a hand on it and pushing her calm and strength to it as well. The gash on its leg was much deeper than Misti had suspected, gushing with dark orange blood. Too much blood. Tears welled in Misti’s eyes at the sight. Still, she sent her life-energy into the beast, mending the wound, not caring that she herself was beginning to feel ill, her own strength wavering, her vision dimming. The bleeding stopped as shiny new black skin closed over the wound. The glossy fur would grow back, so no lasting harm had been done to this creature. Physically, at least. A weak cawing noise drew her attention and Misti gently severed their link, giving the neades a scratch. It huffed in reply, much calmer now.

  She stumbled to the thunderclap, dropping to her hands and knees beside it. Handfuls of feathers had been ripped from its flesh, leaving behind welts and bloody, torn skin behind. Her anger blossomed into full-blown rage. Her tears, and her tired state, blurred her vision. What purpose does this bloodshed serve? She caressed the thunderclap’s neck, making soft, soothing sounds when the bird’s panicked white eyes darted to her.

  Connecting with the thunderclap, she transferred what little strength and calm she had left over to the creature, willing her crafting forward. The welts went down, the skin healed. But Misti’s eyes closed of their own accord, head dropping to her chest as she toppled to the side. The quill of a feather poked into her forearm, the sharp pain waking her. Get up, girl. The endurance her vulnix bloodline blessed her with surged, and she pushed herself upright, eyeing her work. The thunderclap would survive. The feathers would grow back. It gave her a weak caw as thanks.

  One more creature left. Misti struggled to her feet, her legs and arms feeling like wood, and all but fell onto the ashray’s container. Only a thin layer of water remained. The semi-translucent ashray curled on the bottom, trying desperately to keep as much of itself underwater as possible. Its narrow, serpentine body barely fit beneath the surface. Even so, its pale-blue fins and back sparkled, drying in the sunlight. How can I help? She couldn’t repair the glass in time. Can I tilt the container on its side? No. The crack ran across the glass. I’d break the whole thing if I tried to move it.

  Panic flashed white-hot through her, giving her a frenzied kind of focus. She wouldn’t let this creature be sacrificed. Her eyes strayed to the goddess totem she had knocked over earlier. There was a small bowl-like formation in the rock where the totem rested. She ran to it, unhooking her flask from her belt and pouring water into the rock bowl, seeing if it would seep through any cracks. The water held, so she dumped her entire flask into the bowl. It was shallow, so the water filled it easily, but it would have to do for now. Running back to the now-empty container, she reached inside and picked up the ashray as gently as she could. The thin creature nearly slipped from her grasp, but she held it as tightly as she dared and rushed back to the shallow bowl.

  Misti had just set the ashray into the water and started to give it some of her newfound frenzied strength when a blow thumped against the back of her head. She fell forward, nearly landing on top of the ashray but catching herself just in time. The creature curled up tight in the bowl, submerged but weak from fear. Misti was turning to see what had hit her when another blow struck her shoulder, throwing her sideways. She landed in a heap, shoulder aching, her frenzied strength leaving her, and looked up to see another banished one, this time a Nemora. One that had a bloody sun carved into her forehead. Another sun goddess worshipper. Fright rippled through her at the sight.

  Dazed, she fixated on her attacker. A Laidly Nemora, skin bright blue patterned with pale blue spirals. The Laidly Nemora controlled the streams and lakes themselves, and could have easily captured an ashray, elusive and rare creatures. The Nemora seemed young, female right now, but her seafoam green eyes spoke of rage. Fear sparked under Misti’s skin. She tried to call out to Dylori or Arias, but weak as she was, her voice came out as barely a whisper. It seemed Dylori was still battling the Vagari, and Arias was nowhere to be seen. They’d never hear the frightened sound Misti just made.

  But Zora could. A flash of orange, red and yellow streaked through the air, barreling into the Laidly Nemora and slamming her into the rock. Wings outstretched, Zora slashed with her front claws, digging into the Nemora’s shoulder, neck, and face. Dark brown blood dripped from the woman’s wounds, and a vicious kind of joy sliced through Misti’s exhaustion. The Nemora punched Zora in the muzzle. Zora bared her teeth in response and flew back.

  The Nemora got to her feet, putting a hand over the cut in her neck. Ignoring Zora, she started toward Misti again and the ashray. But the vulnix attacked once more, digging her teeth into the Nemora’s white hair and yanking her back. The Nemora screamed and drew her hand up, the patterns on her skin glowing a deep brown. The rocks around her cracked open, and water streamed out and up. The Nemora crafted it into a whip and swung it at Zora. The water whip caught Zora’s left wing. The vulnix yelped in pain and dropped to the ground, landing hard on the rocks. The Nemora glared triumphantly down at Zora’s limp body, lifting her foot to crush Zora’s head.

  “No, Zora!” Misti yelled. She called up whatever strength she had left and pushed herself upright, stumbling forward and slashing at the Nemora with her dagger. A fast slice. It was the only thing she could manage in her tired state, but it worked. The attack caught the Nemora by surprise, tearing her shift and slicing a thin brown line down her back. Not deep, certainly not enough to kill her, but enough to distract her from killing Zora.

  The Nemora spun round, her crafting calling a wall of water to crash into Misti, slamming her into the ground and filling her nose and mouth. She coughed and snorted until she could breathe again. The Nemora towered over her, and in her weakened state, Misti knew she couldn’t take her. Terror rushed through her, and her heart thudded in her ears. Is this how I die?

  She expected a whip of water to w
rap around her throat, but a sudden pain jolted through her chest where the pendant was fused to her skin. A bright blue light flashed. The coolness of the Moon cage snapped away, and heat spread through her collarbones. She cried out, wrapping her hand around the pendant. It burned her fingers and palm. Yelping, she let go.

  The pendant pulsed once, twice, again. Misti expected to see the Nemora fall to the ground, to feel that almost euphoric sensation that filled her when those two men died, but there was no brilliant flash of light, no sudden surge of peace. The Nemora stumbled, and Misti felt some strength return to her from the shock. Not much, but enough to claw herself a little farther away from her attacker.

  The thundering roar of a neades ripped through the air as Dis came barreling around the corner, leg bleeding through a hastily tied wrapping, with Arias hanging on tight and a grim look of determination on her face. She raised her bow. Dis ran straight for Misti and stood over her while Arias shot two more arrows into the Nemora’s chest and shoulder. The worshipper dropped to the ground, bleeding. Dis stepped back so that his shiny black eyes stared into Misti’s. Froth dripped from between his bared teeth. Strong as he was, he was in pain.

  Misti threw her hand out and shoved her fingers into Dis’ fur, healing the wound on his leg much like she had with the other neades. Dis gave an appreciative huff and nudged her, but Misti hardly felt it. Zora. I have to save Zora. Exhaustion seemed to haul her to the ground, dragging her eyelids closed, but Misti pulled herself over to Zora’s side. The wet rocks slipped between her fingers, making the short distance seem twice as long, but somehow Misti managed to push her fingers into the feathers of Zora’s wings. With the last of her life-energy, she healed her companion animal. When Zora opened her eyes—one blue, one orange, just like hers—and gave her hand a weak lick, Misti knew she could finally let herself go. Darkness pulled her under like an old friend.

  Chapter Ten

  MISTI WOKE WITH A start, the bed vibrating as Char jumped on the mattress and Danill laughed in the corner. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Misti yawned.

  “What are you two doing up so early? Darkness hasn’t even fallen yet,” she grumbled, eyeing the bright strands of light spilling into the window. “Go back to sleep.”

  Char flopped down next to her, her white nightgown spilling around her as she did, the fabric too big for her tiny body. She blinked her wide eyes at Misti and pouted like only a ten-season-old could. “Misti, please, we have to get up and get ready.”

  Misti pulled her worn blanket over her head and snuggled deeper into the mattress. “Get ready for what?”

  The cover pulled back, and she yelped as Danill’s cold fingers hit her skin. Slapping his hand away, she spun around to face the wall. Her younger brother could be such a pain sometimes.

  “Sissy, I want a snack,” Danill said. Always with the snacks. This kid could eat.

  Char toppled on top of her, her words coming out in a rush. “And I want to play a game. If we play a game today, today will go faster and then it’ll be tomorrow and I’ll be able to pick my vulnix and it’ll be such an—”

  “Okay!” Misti shouted, stanching the flow of words. If she didn’t, her sister would go on forever in her excitement. But Misti understood. She remembered how excited she was to get Zora, how she found her companion. An instant friend. And really, if she didn’t get up with them, they’d probably just cause trouble.

  “Okay, okay,” she muttered, twisting around to get out of bed. Slipping her bare feet into her socks, she knelt to Danill’s level. “Snacks for you, little brother. But quietly. We shouldn’t wake Mother and Father.”

  She ruffled Danill’s hair and wrapped her blanket around his small body, kissing his cheek. He giggled and darted away, disappearing into the hallway.

  Char tugged on Misti’s nightshirt, grinning. “And games for me?”

  Misti threw her arm around Char’s shoulder and hugged her tight, a rush of love warming her core. “And games for you. Do you know your companion animal’s name?”

  “I think I’ll wait until I spend some time with my vulnix.” Char pulled Misti out of her bedroom and into the hallway. “I think I’ll know my companion better then, like you did with Zora.”

  “Following my example. You are wise beyond your years, little sister,” Misti joked, covering another yawn with the back of her hand.

  Char looked back, her eyes sparkling, still tugging on Misti’s shirt. Danill wove back and forth ahead of them, whispering about snacks the whole way.

  Misti awoke to the steady copper-colored gaze of a Nemora with spiky silver hair. The Nemora, a young male, tucked a soft blanket around her shoulders before leaving the room. She had wanted to ask where she was, but the Nemora didn’t return. She lay in a beautiful space, open to the sky and rocks around her. Four silver columns stood at the corners of the space, but there was no roof; rather, thin strands of silver metal spiraled upward into the bright-blue sky like vines on a tree, creating a twisting design over her head that let in the sun. Beautiful, yes, but impractical as a covering. She was in the Ingo Grove, for no other Grove would showcase the metal such as they did. There were no other beds around her. This was probably a holding area created for her while she slept, as the Nemora commonly did for wounded travelers.

  Past the columns, massive rocks jutted out of nearby outcroppings, some arching high overhead. She could see people mingling by a particularly deep stone quarry with a large copper sphere embedded in its center. Tired as she was, two thoughts entered her mind. They had reached the center of the Ingo Grove, and the pendant on her chest no longer burned. It hadn’t killed that Nemora worshipper for some reason, but it frightened her.

  She wanted to sit up but found her arms unwilling to move, so she remained tucked into the soft bed, surrounded by silver that stretched and twisted into the sky in a beautiful design. Despite the comfort of her surroundings, she couldn’t help wondering where her friends had gone. Where Zora had gone. Panic writhed its way into her mind, but a soft wet nudge on her forehead banished it. Zora nuzzled her cheek, padded around her head, and settled down on her chest. Her weight comforted Misti.

  “Hello, my little girl,” she whispered. Zora yipped in response, arching her back and tails, flexing her wings. And that’s when Misti saw the bent, muddy feathers on her left side from the water whip injury.

  “Oh no, Zora! I thought I…” Zora nipped her chin. Desperate to understand, Misti dipped into what little crafting she had regained to speak with her friend.

  “I thought I had healed you.” Misti let her regret shudder over their link, tinged with sadness. It was a Vagari’s duty to protect and heal their companion animal, and she had failed in that duty.

  Zora’s response came fast and low. “You did. But my feathers remain a bit twisted. I stopped you before you killed yourself.”

  “I’m sor—”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, my friend. Besides, you used to do this the old way. I would not mind your hands taking care of my feathers.” The old way. The comment made Misti’s lips lift a little. She could tend to Zora’s feathers without the use of crafting. Zora shifted her weight on Misti’s chest and flicked her ear to the side. “Perhaps we can get this pendant off you now?”

  Worry flashed through the connection. “What happened to the others? The beasts and attackers?”

  “The attackers are dead and buried, and the creatures you healed are safe here at Ingo. They would like to thank you for saving them.” Zora head-butted her chin, sending over some life-energy with the gentle touch. A calming warmth spread through Misti, and she felt less tired. “Speaking of which…”

  Much too soon for her liking, Zora eased their connection away and lifted her head, sniffing to her left. The Nemora with spiky silver hair had returned, leading a neades and carrying a large red metal bowl that sloshed slightly when he moved. Another Nemora carried the dragon while guiding the thunderclap over as it hopped behind her. Zora ambled off Misti’s chest, curling up
on one of her legs and tucking her wings tightly to her back. Misti’s gut churned at the sight of her twisted feathers, but she forced herself to look at her visitors.

  The Nemora carrying the bowl came right to Misti’s side, seemingly unconcerned about the pendant’s powers. Misti rose to a sitting position, amazed about how much life-energy Zora had given her, as the Nemora set the bowl down on her lap. It was filled with clear water and contained the ashray she had saved, curling and uncurling as it slithered around. Misti didn’t know much about its kind, but it looked happy.

  The neades came forward to gently nudge Misti’s foot, and she saw that it was moving easily, its leg completely healed. The other Nemora stopped by the columns and allowed the dragon to fly over. Misti watched the dragon’s awkward fluttering, its balance clearly suffering from the loss of its tail, but it landed by her knee. The thunderclap hopped over, laying its great head on Misti’s lower leg and blinking slowly.

  She touched each beast in turn, sinking into her crafting and allowing them to thank her. They were safe. Healed. Happy and grateful to be saved from the bloody conclusion of the worshippers’ ritual. Their fur and feathers would grow back, and they would return home once they regained their strength. The creatures nudged her gently, gifting back some of their strength before the Nemora led them away.