“Hello, Wren. Wrenny. Double-you. And you are a double you, aren’t you? So powerful, so shiny, so rich and abundant with strength and sparklies.” The raven squinted its eyes and ruffled its wing feathers. “Oh, my, you must forgive me. My head is so tight from being stuffed away for all these years that everything is mushed together. There was…there was…yes, I’m pretty sure I was supposed to tell someone something…”
“Tell someone? Could it be me?” Wren was a little annoyed that her hopes had soared upon first seeing this raven appear. After just their very short conversation, Wren had come to believe that the raven probably had every single screw loose she possibly could.
“Yes. Yes! It was you. That is…is…it is that you will get out of the bars—not the kind you drink in, mind you—and you will fly, and the red smoke will wispy-twisty around you, and you will get home.” She cackled gleefully at the end of that statement, and Wren almost joined her, because that last part had actually made sense.
Home. That was where Wren had longed to be the whole time she’d been down in this gloomy, nasty-smelling cell. She wanted to see her father again, and Denise, and Sia, and the triplets, and—
“How’s it going, prisoner?” came the jubilant voice of someone who wasn’t even close to belonging on that list. The owner of the voice walked around the corner beyond Wren’s cell door, carrying a large, glowing wooden torch and a red tray with large chips of its paint missing on the parts of it Wren could see. And upon seeing what sat on top the poorly treated tray, Wren was a little happier to see Ember once again: two slices of bread sat next to a small bowl of what looked to be water. And Wren was starving.
“It’s safe to dine, Wrenny,” she heard the raven say softly, which made Wren turn in her direction. But all Wren saw where the raven had just been standing was the last of her feathers, fading into thin air.
She decided to trust the raven’s words; Wren was so hungry by now she almost didn’t care if the food was poisoned. At least that way she wouldn’t die on an empty stomach. When Ember shoved the tray through a slot at the bottom of the door, the water sloshed onto the bread and soaked it. She fell to her knees and began to devour the meager meal.
“Looks like you were more than a little hungry, Wren. I was almost worried you wouldn’t eat, as I want you to be completely lucid when you see me kill my first Winged Blue. I was thinking of starting with your father, but I’ve decided that instead of him, I’ll start with the girl who taught you how to fly. Sia. That was her name, wasn’t it?”
Wren almost choked on her final bite of food. She didn’t want to show Ember how helpless her words had made her feel, but it was too late: a feral, proud look flashed across Ember’s face, and she leered down at Wren, her face lit up with delight. “It seems I struck a nerve, now, doesn’t it, Wren? That’s good. It’s what I was aiming for. I want you to know, while you’re trapped down here, about all the fun you’re missing out on in your homeland. I want you to watch as Winged Blue fall from the sky, crash to the earth. I want you to watch as I kill every last person who matters to you. Even your mom, who did a delightfully good job deceiving you, something I’d be proud of if I hadn’t been so aware of her weakness when it came to you. She wasn’t up for ruling alongside Myuss and me, though, so she’s on the list of the doomed. Just like you!” Ember’s malicious grin spread even farther as she continued to speak. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you: that mom of yours is disguised as you right now, and she’s living in your bedroom in your pop’s home. She’s probably helping all the people there remember how little you actually matter to them.”
Wren couldn’t let Ember see exactly how intensely her verbal attacks hurt, and she realized then, as she rose, then squared her shoulders, that she did matter to all the people back in the land where she’d been born. She mattered immensely, and nothing this stupid, evil woman could say would convince her otherwise. “Whatever you say, Ember,” Wren told her, and she found herself smiling for the first time since she’d landed in this cell.
Ember looked startled at Wren’s sudden show of strength, but she quickly wiped any sign of surprise from her face, replacing it with a slightly less-happy smirk. “Well, Wren, you sleep tight, because you have only about twenty-four hours before your pathetic world is torn completely apart. Nighty-night!”
Ember had the nerve to blow Wren a kiss as she straightened up and turned to walk away. Wren found her stomach was trying to tie itself in a knot, and not just because that blown kiss had reminded her of all the times she’d kissed this heartless woman. She made a wish just as Ember and her torch rounded the corner and disappeared: that she had been able to see through Ember’s perfect mask of kindness right away and recognized her for who she really was.
But it was too late now, and although her magical power might have been neat, it didn’t include the much more appealing ability to make her wishes come true. It only allowed her to change into someone else, and Wren realized then that she didn’t want to be anyone else. Not anymore. Being Wren, being herself, it was just fine, for the first time in all the years since her dad had disappeared.
Maybe it had been less than ideal, her blind trust of the Winged Red upon meeting Myuss and Ember and her mother. But as Ember had said, even her mom Passea loved her, in her less-than-perfect way. So at least Wren wouldn’t leave this world feeling unloved. By others, or by herself. This realization was almost comforting enough for her to fully relax for the first time in hours, if not days, even in this miserable place.
She lay down on the dank-smelling, lumpy mattress in the cell’s darkest corner. Just before she drifted off into some much-needed sleep, she heard her Winged cellmate speak again. “Yes, Wrenny-Wren, you will sleep well. And then, tomorrow, you’ll be free! And all will be wet and watery and well.”
Despite the fact that she didn’t really believe any of that batty Winged’s words, the seed of hope that her self-trust had planted had begun to grow. Even if now, fast asleep in her cell, Wren could just barely sense it taking root.
Chapter Thirty-eight
The night of the battle had arrived. Wren didn’t know how she knew, but she could somehow feel it in her cell, feel the fact that day had ended and that there wasn’t much time left before the Winged Red struck. All she could do while she was separated from the Winged Blue was hope that her father and all the rest of his people were as thoroughly prepared as they could be, because she couldn’t do anything to help from here, despite what the prophecy had said.
“I guess prophecies aren’t written in stone.” She sighed.
“Nope, they’re written in books, silly,” said her feathered fellow prisoner, these words followed by an unbalanced-sounding chortle. “And everything will be fine! You will feather again, fly again, love again, everything again!”
“Sure, birdie, sure I will.” Wren didn’t bother attempting to hide her skepticism, because she was doubtful the rather off-kilter bird would even notice.
“It’s ‘Bez,’ not ‘birdie,’ missy! And you’ll get my help, soon enough, I promisepromisepromise!”
*
In a completely different location in the Winged’s realm, Torien was pacing the floor in his library. The triplets stood in a line beyond the couch that sat between him and them, all three looking like they secretly hoped he would knock off his damned pacing. None of them would have admitted to either themselves or the people in the room why, exactly, they were so desperate for him to stop. Perhaps it was of much less importance to Quiq, because at least three-quarters of his attention was clearly taken up with trying to soothe Denise’s frayed nerves.
“I chose quite a time to quit drinking!” she joked, and all the triplets laughed, although Quiq laughed the softest, as he was busy sweeping her up into a hug.
Rysha stood to the right of the two other triplets, her arms crossed but her eyes full of love as she looked at him. He made eye contact with her, and finally, he slowed his pacing, stopping right in front of the chair where Wren sat.
Or maybe it wasn’t all that surprising, Torien thought. “I guess you’re a little worried, Wrenny, huh?”
“Yeah, I sure am!” There was something else behind her words, something no one in the room could quite make sense of, yet they all noticed it, even Speyd and Faest, who shared a quick, questioning look.
“You have the power within you to succeed, Wrenny. Otherwise whoever—or whatever—created the prophecy wouldn’t have chosen you for the most important role in this battle. I know you may not believe that, but you already have within you all you need to help us to triumph. We all believe in you, you know.” He smiled at her as kindly as he knew how, which wasn’t hard considering how much love he felt for her at that moment.
“I…I…thanks, Torien. I’m glad you think so.” Her words seemed to betray what she actually believed, Torien saw, her voice showing that she likely didn’t have any trust in her ability to succeed, to overcome the threat of the Winged Red. But she had to be successful, Torien knew, because despite how heavily the Winged Blue had prepared for this crucial fight, he still didn’t know if they were truly a match for what might be coming.
Torien had missed Rysha over these past few days, especially the reassurances that he knew she would have given often and freely. Since she was much better at training with weaponry, and the Winged Blue needed all the training they could get, she had been kept occupied with all the necessary aspects of preparing for the battle. He just had to hope that the Winged Red weren’t more skilled than his people. He’d even armed Denise, giving her a short sword along with some weaponized potions Zyr had whipped up especially for her. Quiq had insisted upon keeping watch outside Denise’s room. Torien had been surprised at how close those two had come to be, but it brought him great joy, all the same. She deserved to be happy.
Torien realized he’d been silent for too long, so he rose from his knees and stood, turning to look at each of the dear people who stood in front of him:
The three triplets, braver than almost anyone he’d ever met.
Denise, whose inner strength had allowed her to recover from the unconscionably hard life he’d abandoned her to.
Rysha, whose love had helped him stay strong himself, even while she wasn’t by his side to remind him of her love. Love like theirs didn’t weaken, even when the greatest of responsibilities kept them apart.
And then there was Wren. Even if she hadn’t seemed like herself for the last couple of days, he didn’t care for her any less. Instead, he cared more. No one knew what the battle would bring, and he had assumed that Wren had no idea, either. So much and so many depended on her, and yet here she was, being so very brave and looking only half as scared as he himself felt.
Now, in this moment, he felt a swelling of pride to be in such great and dear company, and his voice rang out certain and strong as he told them, “I know we will all do our best, because it’s what everyone in this room, all you wonderful Winged Blue, and you, Denise, have always done. Now all we need to do is wait and try to relax.”
*
Ember had just appeared around the corner, carrying a large, red-rimmed mirror. She looked much more excited than Wren thought she should have been allowed to be, given the circumstances.
Given her violent plans.
Wren might have known she couldn’t stop Ember and Myuss, but she wasn’t about to cry again. Especially with Ember watching her so happily. She’d done her best, and while the pain of not being there for her family and friends and the rest of the Winged Blue was intense, she still held a small, glowing star of hope, one that told her everything might still work out.
So she chose to ignore Ember’s taunts: how she’d have to watch helplessly through the mirror as her friends and family died, and that she, too, wouldn’t be alive much longer. Wren’s life might have been hard, impossibly hard, but it hadn’t been empty of joy, and she let that knowledge warm her every inch as Ember, with one last look in Wren’s direction, released her wings and stepped through the mirror’s surface.
Right after Ember had exited through the mirror, Wren began to hear voices, coming from the hall beyond her cell, and soon, their owners appeared, red raven after red raven streaming into the room on open wings and all passing through the mirror as well, each of them calling out their fierce, menacing war cries. Then, what seemed like ages later, all was still once more.
“Guess it’s our turn now!” Wren jumped at the sound, startled to find that she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought. She turned to where the voice had come from, and there was Bez, reappearing at her feet. Wren was glad to have Bez’s company again, even if that company included her apparent lightness in the sanity department. Wren knew she would have lost it too, though, if she’d been trapped down here as long as Bez likely had been.
“How’d you disappear like that? And reappear? And how long have you been down here?”
“Forever and a coupla weeks. I’m not trapped, you know, or at least not trapped now. Now, now I can help you, and you, you can let me out. Now, be a dear and stick your finger down my throat. My wingtips just can’t reach far down enough.”
“You want me to what?” Wren grimaced, but she did as she was told, because what did she have to lose, other than the contents of her stomach? She shook her head, inhaled, and held her breath. Then she bent down and stuck her finger into the raven’s open beak.
Bez made a few disgusting gurgling noises, then ducked down and hopped backward, the contents of her stomach hitting the cell floor with a dull thud. Nothing disgusting came out, though—instead, a large, red key lay on the ground between Bez and Wren’s feet.
“That…that wouldn’t be the key to our cell, now, would it?”
“Only one way to find out!” Bez cackled as Wren reached down and picked up the surprisingly clean-looking key.
She went over to the door and put her fingers through the bars where a square of metal was welded to them. In that spot, after feeling around for a few tense seconds, she found what must have been the cell’s keyhole, and without a moment’s hesitation, she fit the key into the lock.
Perfect.
And then she was outside the cell, and she was free. She turned back to thank Bez as profusely as she possibly could, but Bez was already gone. There was nothing left to do, then, but go through the mirror.
That, and wish desperately that whatever she found on the other side wouldn’t be a clear sign that she was already too late.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Is it already too late for the humans?
And the Winged Blue? Sia couldn’t help but wonder this as she saw the approaching swarm of Winged Red. The upcoming battle had caused all her thoughts to follow a twisting, winding path into a dark forest within her that she didn’t often visit. But if there ever was a time when those crooked trees and unpleasant wonderings were likely to beckon to her, this was it.
She knew the Blue were as prepared as they possibly could be, and Torien’s pep talk hadn’t exactly failed to make her ready. If she had to be honest, though, watching all those red-winged people that were quickly approaching where all her brethren hovered, watchful, waiting…if she had to be honest, she didn’t know for sure that the Winged Blue would win.
Sia didn’t even want bloodshed to be necessary. Couldn’t they all just sit down to tea and cookies and talk it out like civilized beings? Chocolate-chip cookies, if she had a choice. An odd, surprising smile found its way onto her lips at this delicious-but-silly thought, but the red-tipped arrow that whizzed by her ear washed it away in an instant.
&nbs
p; No, no matter how much she wanted to handle this disagreement her own way, she had to rise to the occasion. She had to fight to protect those she loved, and the humans, too. So Sia nocked an arrow against her bowstring and aimed at the throat of someone who she hoped didn’t have any family waiting for them at home.
An arrow which found its mark about fifty feet away, striking through the neck of a male Winged Red who led the charge, his wings giving one last pitiful-looking flap before he plummeted to the ground.
Sia had no interest in celebrating what might be called a “victory,” nor did she have time to, because the rest of the Winged Red had arrived in droves, and she knew the Blue still had a long fight ahead of them, one that they had no choice but to win.
They had to stop any Winged Red from reaching the portal. There was a cloaking spell on it, but she knew it was only a matter of time before the Winged Red found a way around it, at least if they were as powerful as Torien and Rysha had assumed. There was no reason to doubt that they would be, Sia thought as she raised her hand, using her powers to shove back a quickly approaching Winged who wielded a short sword. Then a blast of fire shot toward her feet, and she swooped away from it just in time.
Just in time to save herself, but not the Winged Blue woman whom it hit. Her screams as she burned didn’t help Sia’s mood any, and she knew then that she would never forget their sound as the flames bound the woman’s shrieking form within their magical heat.
But then a large splash of water fell from above the woman, and Sia saw it had come from a nearby male Blue. She could also see from the tightness of his brow how much using his power was taking out of him. Too much, because by the time the flames were fully extinguished, he had nothing left to use in order to fight off the muscular Winged Red man who, his face full of ugly-looking pride, stabbed all the way through the smaller Winged’s armor with his sword. Sia flinched as she saw blood spray out the startled man’s back, then gasped as the Winged Red man yanked out his sword, neither the sword nor her compatriot’s wings keeping him aloft any longer.
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