RED

The sun was a warm hand on the back of my neck as we rose through the skies, allowing the updraft to take us even higher again. Everything below was reduced to its most essential features, and it suddenly made sense why the mountain range was dubbed the Grey Fist. There were the rocky knuckles, the slithering veins of water, just like a hand pushing through the fabric of the earth! Humans and wolves spilled down the sides in every direction, beginning the long journey home that they had anticipated for so long.

And there were the porous cliffs that Rana called home, riddled with cave-like dwellings and capped by a crystal monument that magnified the light and flashed like firelight in a wolf's eye. Some of the other wyverns in our party were already angling towards it, wings pulled tight against their sinuous bodies for speed.

Beyond even that was a desolate brown patch that stretched as far as the eye could see, all the way to a glimmering veil of blue that I could only assume was the sea. Even from this distance the edges looked sharp, insidious brambles slicing into my vision and snagging my attention. The Thornwood, I thought to myself, shuddering at the sight. Somewhere, deep within the heart of that eerie, hateful place was Rya's Messenger, the phoenix I would one day beg to train me. I felt a surge of pity for the poor, lonely creature, smothered by all of those desolate thorns, but it was quickly swallowed by self-pity, for I would have to venture in to find it.

Even so, the Thornwood could not detract from the sense of wonder and rightness I felt looking upon the rest of the world from above. Everything made sense up here. The light, the heat, the endless, expansive sky that curled at the edges with a dusting of stars. Fingers of air tore through my hastily braided hair, ruffling it with the fondness of an older brother. It felt ludicrous to think, and I shied from saying it out loud, but I finally felt like I belonged.

I knew I should have been afraid of the extreme height, sickened by the prospect of falling to my death, but the golden wyvern was solid between my thighs, his leathery wings snapping taut like bands of steel, riding the air currents with more grace and flexibility than a ship could glide through water. Sol's strength was reassuring, and I felt secure in his ability to land us safely — even if I had no desire to reunite with the ground.

And then there was the way things came into focus once the limitations on my vision were removed. Down there, everything was claustrophobic and blurry, but up here... I could spy the goats edging up the mountain, licking salt from the treacherous slope; the snakes rustling through the tall grass on the plains; the foolish birds flitting from tree to tree, so confident in their high ground. How easy it would be to swoop and snap one up!

I'd never felt so sure of my heritage as I did in that moment, finally experiencing the skies as a wyvern ought to. Tears filled my eyes, only to be whisked away by the wind. I felt a strong surge of appreciation for the man who had brought me here.

It was quick to recede when another dead patch caught my eye, necrotic tissue in an otherwise verdant land. The trees were sharp, skeletal husks and the ground was parched and cracked. Animal carcasses fanned out from the middle as if in ritual sacrifice. Had Nya's forces already ventured into the mountains...?

I had just marked two heads of hair — one blue and one auburn — when Sol banked to the left, spiraling down. My friends disappeared behind a twist in the rock and I felt my first glimmer of guilt return, realising how selfish this detour had been. Where was Sebastian, and Eddy at that? What trouble had the wolf, the witch and the wyvern found themselves in?

I didn't have time to figure it out, because Sol clung to the face of a cliff overlooking the riverbank, claws finding purchase in the rock. I slid from his back and onto the thin strip of land, peering down at the muddy water gushing from a small opening in the side of the canyon. The underground river had found a new place to emerge, and I grimaced at the stray limb bobbing in the current, the pale bodies that had washed up on the shore.

The wyvern's flesh rippled over its bones, melting into the shape of a man. Sol emerged in golden glory, tossing his head back in exhilaration, his laughter booming through the valley. He let go of the rock and dropped to the ground beside me, with a heaviness that made my stomach curl. I wasn't sure how sturdy this jutting bit of rock was, and whatever trust I'd had in Sol's body did not extend to my own.

"That was incredible," I breathed, shying away from the edge — straight into his arms. I stiffened as they wrapped around me, his chin coming to rest on the top of my head, but I decided I wouldn't complain about the extra security so far above the ground. "How am I supposed to get down, now?"

"You jump," Sol said, chuckling at my horrified expression. "You keep asking me how I learned to shift, but you're thinking about it too much. How does a baby bird learn to fly?"

"It jumps," I muttered, hating that he echoed Rana's perspective on the matter. I just do it.

"Exactly. And they either make it or they don't."

"Will you catch me if I fall?" I asked, peering over the edge. The drop made my vision split in two.

"No," he said gently, grabbing my chin. I was forced to refocus on his face, his strong, roughly chiselled features. Where Nya's folk boasted supreme symmetry, Rya's children were proudly balanced, the grand sum of all their parts — however flawed. "Birds build their nests among the highest branches for a reason. You learn to fly out of necessity."

"What if I fall?" I asked, my voice sounding small.

"Then you fall, for life is not worth living without wings."

For the first time, I glimpsed just how deeply affected he was by all those years underground. Sol's tawny eyes were haunted, even as his skin glowed beneath the open sky, as if greedily soaking up the sun. He already looked darker, sturdier, more... whole.

"So what you're saying is that I need to have faith," I said, relaxing against the solid brace of his chest. Maybe the river will catch my fall.

"Yes. Exactly," he said, sounding proud as he massaged my shoulders. It felt surprisingly good; I hadn't realised how tense my muscles had become.

"In Rya or myself?"

"Both. She chose you for a reason, Red." Sol paused, fingers digging into my collarbone with bruising force as he leaned forward to whisper in my ear: "If that's even your real name."

It wasn't. I had no idea who my parents were, what they might have called me. I shivered, but it wasn't from the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck as I tried to come to terms with the jump. Just move your feet, I thought, urging myself to take the leap. Everything will fall into place.

Every nerve in my body screamed in violent protest, but I inched closer to the edge, swallowing back my fear. I can do this. I was made for this. Even my silver cloak was snapping against my neck, as if trying to yank me back to safety.

What if I wasn't cut out for this, though? What if I'd only made it this far through pure, dumb luck?

"Just let go," Sol crooned. "Rya will take care of the rest."

Was Rya even watching? An opal castle surrounded by a fiery most flashed through my mind, as I recalled how every cry for help had been ignored. Was the Sun Goddess even home? Was she locked away in the tallest tower, waiting for someone to rescue her? Or did she simply not care?

I'll make her care, I thought, steeling my nerves. Sol was right; I was the first person to receive Rya's Blessing in over a century, so the Sun Goddess must have chosen me for a reason. All I had to do was gamble with the life She'd valued above all others. Rya would have no choice but to protect her own interests.

And I was so damn sick of waiting. I wanted the power to protect my friends. The body to make air itself bend to my will. I wanted strength and magic and confidence and even beauty, so Sebastian would finally see me as a woman instead of a tool to be wielded. It was pathetic, and it was petty, but I longed for that power with all of my bitter, ashen heart.

"Goddess, I hope you're listening," I whispered, closing my eyes against the perilous drop. "I need you now more than ever."

She didn't answer, but Sol had one thing right: a life without wings was no life at all. I sucked in a sharp breath and stepped off the ledge, as if it was no different from any other step in the world.