I still couldn't remember the stories I read about him, but eventually, I'll unfold the mysteries one by one.

???

IT'S ONLY THE FIRST DAY of my new identity, and I've already screwed up. As they say, things will get better, but I doubt that will happen.

The sun descends below the horizon as darkness paints the night sky. Constellations twinkles, and the crescent moon reigns supreme, shining over the city of Seriphus. The nightlife at the marketplace kept everyone from their beds. There's music, dancing by the bonfire; street foods; and much more. I'd stay out if I could, but my wounds begged for the stiff bed at home.

Bethany dressed my wounds after I got out of the shower. I didn't have the appetite for dinner, and sleeping wasn't an option as the crowd behind these walls was chaotic, and I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as cops here.

I sit on the bed, eying this pathetic space I now call my room. There's not much to look at, considering there is only a miserable desk leaning by the window. It's hard to believe someone like me—a so-called daimon—would've lived an average lifestyle among the people. In the books I've read and the movies I've watched regarding powerful beings, most lived lavished lifestyles where they were worshiped, and money wasn't a problem.

Zelus, what was he thinking when he decided to live in this city. Or maybe he had no choice.

I leave the bed and walk to the window, resting my arms over the cold stone and gazing down to the marketplace streets. Aside from the live performances and exotic activities, regular people did everyday things. Men transport heavy items such as food supplies from one location to another while some remain by their stalls to sell their valuables in hopes that someone will buy them. Mothers scour for groceries while their kids play with anything they can find. Rocks, plants, and fruits that fell from the stall stand. It feels foreign, should I say, to see kids playing with anything than a gadget. Parents in the twenty-first century often throw an iPad or smartphone at their kids with random cartoons or games to keep them quiet. And they grow up accustomed to that. I remembered playing in the mud as a kid, making mud cakes and mud-pie. I didn't have a phone; my parents wouldn't let me hold theirs. It was a simple time, with simple things. And I grew up just fine. Ish.

I watch a kid just sitting at the doorstep of my place. I'm bad at guessing ages, but I know he's too young to speak. He's drawing in the sand with a stick. I couldn't make out what he was drawing, but he seemed happy about it. And that warms my heart. Wow, a kid just warmed my heart.

"Thanks a lot, Perseus; now I'm losing my mind because of your strike against my head."

Next to the kid lies a dog with white fur and droopy ears. Based on its composure, the kid is its master. They remind me of Ryan. And suddenly, I wish she was here with me. She's always around even when I don't want her to. During difficult days, she'd rest by my side, which was the only reason I needed to continue waking up every day. On days when dad would lose his shit, she'd stand before me, barking at him. She really is my best friend.

What I'd give to have her here at this very moment.

Then again, if I ever had a wish, I'd wished things to return to normal.

Before problems consumed my family, mom and dad would bring us to the arcade on peaceful nights such as today. Mom would buy tickets worth hundreds of dollars as a treat for just being us. We would ride the Ferris Wheel, play games and earn prizes, eat high calory food, and still have tickets to spare. If we do, we will give it to a random stranger rather than throwing it.

I felt a stupid grin flashing as I recalled when mom and dad allowed us to bring a friend to the arcade. Without a doubt, I brought Alex along. After two years of friendship, we became close and basically did so much together. And having fun at the arcade is one of them.

He insisted on taking me to the mirror hall, where we'd go through hell finding a way out. I'd rather walk through the haunted house than the mirror room. Of course, with his charms and alluring eyes, I gave in. Inside, there were mirrors everywhere, capturing our every angle so that it was hard to miss if a spider was crawling on my back.

He held my arm to ensure we do not lose each other, and even after two years of friendship, I've still not grown used to his touch. It wasn't because I hated physical contact—I love it, actually—but he felt different. Different in the sense that I don't want to let him go.

We strolled through the path, trying to avoid getting confused, and it all went well for a while. In fact, I was beginning to enjoy myself. That is until he lets go and explored the hall by himself. Before I could catch him, he was already out of my sight, but his voice remained, assuring me that I'll make it out. I avoided panicking as I ventured deeper, but the further I went, the more mirrors I bumped into. At times I would see him standing behind me, but when I turned, it was only his reflection.

Anywhere I turned, I'd see myself staring back at me. The feeling of being left alone crippled me with anxiety that I couldn't carry on without stopping to catch my breath. At some point, my own reflection wasn't me anymore. They shared my appearance, but they weren't me. It was then I knew I was hallucinating. I simply stopped and cried.

It wasn't long before Alex found me, and we left through an emergency exit.

Since that day, he kept on apologizing. And no matter how often I accepted his apologies, he'd cry every now and then, feeling extremely guilty.

...

I look up to see the castle. One good thing about this dusty room is that it has a killer view of the palace. From where I'm standing, it looks tiny compared to actually being in it. I can never forget the feeling of being tiny in a massive castle.

I was reminded of the boy who nearly broke my nose today, wondering what is he up to when the sun goes down? Is he fast asleep? Training? Having dinner with his family? The possibilities are endless. I know I'll never spot him anywhere near my place. He's the kind of person who surrounds himself with high-class citizens and wouldn't give a second glance to lower ones like the rest of us or just me.

I still couldn't remember the stories I read about him, but eventually, I'll unfold the mysteries one by one.

Believing the reality I'm in at this moment might be a dream, I take in the view as much as possible before heading to bed, hoping I will remember everything when I wake up, in this world or my own.

As I took a seat at the edge of the bed, securing my hair in a high bun, I shoved my wings aside before lying down. They are delicate but heavy as they are strong. It brings back the memory of dad burning Wings. I could still remember the night like the back of my hand and how his eyes were filled with rage for his faggot son.

I always knew dad, and I will never have a father-son relationship like Alex had with his, but I never thought he would go to the extent of destroying the only happiness that's left in my life. Not only did my happiness die that night, but also his existence to me.

It's hard to believe my flying invention is destroyed one day, and the next day, I wake up with actual wings attached to my spine. Perhaps this is Wings, just with flesh and bones than metal and wires. For as long as I remain in this world, with this new identity, I'll learn to fly someday. I don't know how, but I will.

For Alex.