Chapter 1| A Story Never To Be Told

Inky feathers flittered, raven hair tangled, and clothes rippled as the wind played with me. Sometimes it was gentle and consoling. Other times, it showed me violence.

I held my ground before the expanse of the sea. Its mysterious and deep waters greeted me and the face of the cliff, sending waves upon its wake.

Up above, my silent listeners remained watching. The full moon presented me with its mild light and crescent smile some days in a month, and the stars that dotted the dark-painted sky flickered and flickered.

All of them beckoned me to leap into freedom as they always would.

In response, I took a step back, a glance batted to the dark woods standing behind me, and I yanked myself off the restraints shackling me.

I dropped along the side of the cliff, wings neatly folded until several meters before the surface of the sea. Wind gathered underneath my wings and successfully caught me from the fall. With a meeting wave of pelagic, I slapped the tip of the hilling wave and glided over its surface.

My wings flattered hard and brought me higher and faster, up to the floating whites. I shot through the clouds, a giggle escaping my lips as I broke their shapes till the very last one I could land my eyes on. I spun in the middle of the air, quickly shaking off the dues that clung onto me.

This was freedom.

This was what I was born to do.

One of the privileges given to me the moment I was born.

Unfortunately, only I could do this at night, in the dark, where no curious eyes, nosy minds, and blabbering mouths could be on standby.

Tonight was just like any other night of getting my freedom in hiding.

Another night of admiring the piece of art that had been made even before I could breathe. The natural scapes and the music they made. Set, molded, and laid by the unstoppable time, and maybe—or maybe, by God's plan.

Whoever or whatever made such priceless, untamed, undeniable beauties was and forever be a genius.

Which I aspired to be.

No, not to be immortal.

I wanted to be someone who could bring souls with the notes that tug their strings, to the worlds I painted. Dance to the colorful music of each piece. Listen and see the stories that would be carved onto their very minds and souls. Unforgotten even if time and fate had come to swallow me.

But when could I finally do that to anyone else other than my most beloved mother? Well, let us be grateful for what was already beside me, ready to support me without any hesitation.

Speaking of mother, she could be worried about me now since I had been here for a couple of hours already. I left her back home after dinner. It was an unspoken thing that I must fly—I mean, what was the use of wings if you weren't going to fly?

Wings were used for flying! Even those fat chickens fly! Even ostriches—wait, ostriches do not fly! Stupid Cyan, stupid Cyan.

What birds can't fly other than ostriches, though? Gotta Boogle that later.

Another day of thinking random things.

Well, who doesn't think of random things at least once—

I took a sharp turn and avoided an upcoming white bird with an orange beak, and took notice of the pattern of its feathers. My face twisted in annoyance as I remained hovering over the sea. "Oh, of course, it's you."

The seagull shrieked at me, almost letting go of the packet of chips clipped between its beak.

This little thief.

"What, surprised to see me?" I mocked the little bird and pointed at the food she got. "You stole that again, didn't you?"

She let out a screech once again and turned sidewards to go back to her twig home, where she would eat her stolen food.

"You know, I brought fish for you," I told her, my voice loud against the whistling winds. In that instant, she dropped the packet into the sea and rushed to the cliffside. "Hey, don't just drop the junk!" I exclaimed, throwing a hand up in the air.

"Thank you, Cyan!" She replied in the loudest squawk she could muster and proceeded in the direction where I came from.

I sighed and folded my wings, descending to fetch her garbage. That damned bird would always do that whenever I brought her fish, dropping what she had stolen down the sea or whatever she got from people.

Zooming up at the sky once I got the packet, I glanced at the moon and stars. The sea, my black hair, and feathers caught its light, guiding me where I should cover for the night.

A story never to be told.

Just like a story of a girl born with wings and lime-colored eyes, pupils vertically split.

An existence to be hidden.

Well, most of the time.

"I'm hungry." My words drowned out in the howl of the night breeze and I patted my growling tummy. "Alright, let's go ho—"

"Oh, Faenice, watch out!"

"Holy shit!" I shouted in shock as a figure in black came passing by and realization quickly dawned on me. As if I was splashed with seawater, I felt drenched and cold, and I had almost forgotten how to fly.

"Dear Gods, I'm sorry! Are you—hey, wait!"

With rapid beats of my wings, I found myself scurrying away from the person.

A person with wings.

"Wait a moment!" The person—a woman begged behind, chasing after me over the sea, and even when I arrived at the cliff, she was still on my tail.

I landed on the dirt, trashing the nearby grasses on my wake, and ran to the nearest tree, where I had left my bag on its roots, as well as my bow and quiver. I threw them over my shoulder and dashed into the dark woods.

I bothered not to take out my phone to call Mom, since there was no signal here at the moment. Using it for a flashlight was also a no because of the woman after me.

This forest was near civilization. Only half an hour and you would reach the only paved path from here to the city. Which meant, I could never fly once I entered the forest.

I took a glance back and stopped short, my heart leaping as a dark figure dropped down before us.

"I said wait!" She exclaimed with both hands raised in front of her.

I raised my hands, glowing brightly in lime-colored light, and pushed her away with the wind, then shot her with a boulder of dirt.

"What on—"

I scurried away and made it to a place in a wider space, the moonlight breaking through branching trees. I snatched one arrow from my quiver, took a position, and drew my bow back as she appeared behind a tree. "Who are you?" I demanded and aimed at her head. "Speak of your business."

"Woah." She raised both of her hands. "Alright, you're not what I expected you to be," I heard her utter before the forest swallowed her voice. She cleared her throat and began once again. "I am Morris Brayce, you may call me Morris, and as you can see, we came from the same race." Her huge, dark wings flattered open and she flashed me a soft smile.

I kept my muscles lax as I glared at her. "Well, Miss Morris Brayce, I am quite sure I told you to speak of your business."

"I came to bring you to your new home," she explained and neatly folded down her wings. "To our world, Luminozenko, where you belong. Worry not, I'm not your enemy. I am here to help and protect you."

"You are here to protect me from what?" My brows furrowed deeper and I slowly lowered my arms, withdrawing my aim. "How do you even know me?"

She took a step closer to me. "The ones I serve know your father, Millennium Glory Killian Belladonna. They are his closest friends and they sent me here to help you move to our world and to protect you from our enemies—oh, Millennium Glory is equivalent to General in this world, by the way."

I moved a couple of steps back. "Enemies, alright. And why are your enemies after me?"

Morris pursed her lips into a thin line and raised a finger. "This, erm, it's a little bit sensitive." She took a deep breath and spat, "To take you away or worse, to kill you as well as your mother."

My eyes broadened as I took a sharp breath. "Kill me and Mom," I repeated in a low voice.

I glanced around the endless woods, trying to find something that would tell me I heard it wrong. Anything to rewrite the word echoing in my head.

All I could find was nature as our audience, watching things unfold. But they told me one thing.

This was reality.

I knew my father, who left me and Mom even before I could think and never came back again, was indeed a General—Millenium whatever. A warrior of his kind, somewhere of unspeakable distance.

He was the one who gave me the privilege to touch the ethereal blue. Feel the essence of the land as though I was molded from it. Hear the songs of each creation like no other.

Yet, his blood was what stripped me of the custom. This body was a curse as much as it was a blessing.

As far as I knew, I flew along the veil of love and hate.

I brought my lime eyes back to the woman. "Tell me more," I demanded.

"I will, but could you please put that away first?" She gestured at the bow and arrow in my grasp. "Let us talk in friendly terms."

"This is friendly enough," I proclaimed in a firm voice and clenched my bow. "I will keep this out in case you are one of the enemies I should be aware of, and you better speak only of truths."

"Duly noted," she said, nodding furiously. "So, uh, what's your question?"

"How do you know where I am?" I asked as I took in her features in the dim light.

Her black, wavy hair framed her pretty face until a few inches above her shoulders. Her quaint clothing, a white blouse with bishop sleeves tucked under a pair of brown, high-waisted pants, compliment her curves.

"Sir Killian left your exact address to his best friend, the one I serve before he went missing—"

"Missing?" I barked at her, my wings flicking open in shock. "Did you mean he didn't abandon me and Mom intentionally?"

Mom had always told me that my father didn't abandon us. He only took one's leave to finish what he left wherever he came from.

Now, I just learned he was missing.

How do I tell Mom about this?

"Uh . . . I suppose?" She responded with uncertainty and clasped her hands. "Sorry, by the way, you haven't met your father because of our world's circumstances."

A sigh escaped my lips and I shook my head. "It's not your fault . . . if you're not one of his enemies, that is."

She let out an awkward chuckle. "It's understandable for you to be suspicious of me. But, here." She tapped on her bracelet casing her left wrist and it glowed. I gawked at it as she pulled out a piece of paper.

"Throw it," I demanded and held my bow and arrow with one hand, extending my other.

"Here." She launched it towards me.

I snatched it from the air with my wind control whilst batting a glance down her bracelet and gazed down at the sheet, almost as if it was a maple leaf in Autumn. I read its short content. It was indeed my house's exact address.

"I was supposed to meet you and your mother at the written address, but who knew I would find you so quickly?" She gave me a smile, a relieved and happy one.

"Why have you come at this time? Why now, not sooner or later?" I questioned in a voice I kept even, void of emotions.

"Our enemies have found out where you are, Cyan," she said, her face growing serious. "I do not know whether they are currently near or not, but we must still act fast." She paused and as though the trees would speak of our conversation to others, in a lower voice, she continued. "I need you to trust me, even a little bit, for some time. My mission is to protect you."

"A mission from the one you serve, who is the best friend of my missing father, correct?" I recalled her statements and she nodded.

I studied her movements. Everyone had ticks, and they would come crawling out when they lie, are nervous, or are in a situation, they weren't expecting. The way they speak, their actions, and even the tiniest shift of their eyes could brand them, liars.

Sometimes, however, when you come to face a good one, those ticks would be hard to find under the layers of the masks they wore.

This woman appeared relieved of finding me fast—relieved that she found me to protect me or do the opposite? She seemed serious with her words. But were they really true or not?

Which were the answers?

"Why do you have enemies and what makes you and them different?" I inquired and eyed her intently.

"We are at war between our own kinds," she immediately claimed, voice firm and confident. "While us Gods' children guard lives, our enemies steal them without remorse. Their sins are drawn on their skins and eyes, black tattoos to declare they are the legions of depravity and red eyes with black sclera to speak of their thirst for blood."

"To lure me in, they are after my mother to use as bait, and to satisfy their greed, they must take my last breath away," I remarked and carefully put the arrow back to the quiver but kept my bow in my hand just in case. "A good call for them—a simple yet effective plan. At the same time, predictable. And this is where you step into the board to protect me."

She nodded and smiled faintly. "Yeah, that's right."

"Hmm." I clipped my chin between my fingers. "I could take you home right now and talk with Mom."

Her eyes immediately brightened and her wings flittered in delight. "That would be nice," she beamed and grinned carelessly.

I smirked mischievously and tilted my head. "But I would be letting in an enemy. That would be nice, isn't it?"

The smile on her lips faded, eyes dulling and wings drooping down in disappointment. She sighed and ran her fingers through her raven locks. "Dear Gods, I know all of this is sudden and ridiculous and strange, but I really am on your side." She put a hand over the left side of her chest and patted the spot. "Please, I can't let anyone—other than our enemies—get hurt or die. Your father had entrusted your safety to his best friend, who ordered me to guard you. I can't fail those who have expectations of me."

I stared at her with a stoic face. "Where did you and Dad come from again?"

"Luminozenko," she fired back.

"How can you hide your wings?"

"With a magical accessory."

"You looked like you traveled the expanse of the sea earlier."

She sighed and sluggishly lifted her wings. "Yeah, been traveling for hours."

The longest I had flown was six hours straight—from eight in the night to two in the morning—without landing. Mom and I camped in the woods, so I wouldn't have to go home that late. The moment I hit the ground, all I could remember was Mom tucking me under the sheets and playing classical music from her phone. When I woke up, I felt boneless and all that was left were sore muscles. But I soon got used to it.

"Alright." I turned away and began walking. "You can come with me."

"Wait, really?" Morris beamed, a hint of relief coating her voice, and she began following me.

"Unless, of course, you don't want to." I glanced at her over my shoulder and wing with a crook smirk. "And walk in front of me."

She pulled a face. "Alright." Sighing, she quickened her pace and slowed down before me.

My eyes scanned her back. I wouldn't know when she was about to draw out a weapon as it seemed that she got things out of that bracelet. Was that an inventory or something? Either way, I should still keep my guard up.

With my directions, we traced my path back out of the woods, which took almost half an hour to do. While doing so, Morris kept on looking around, eyeing the details of the surroundings, cautious and guarded. But she couldn’t help but question me whenever she spotted arrows on a target hanging on tree branches that we passed by and I would always answer that they were indeed my arrows.

Her apple-green eyes trailed the road she finally stepped on, tapping her foot on the concrete as if testing out its sturdiness, and she shrugged. Did they not have roads in their world?

"I suggest you hide your wings first before you and I go," I told her and turned away to find my sportbike hidden in the shadows of the trees.

I pulled out my key and a black opal earring—one that changes hues at different angles—from my bag as soon as I saw the familiar lime-and-black color in the dark. I put on the earring and felt the soft wind caressing my now bareback, no wings in sight.

I opened the top box attached to my bike and fished for a jacket, which I quickly put on. I took my helmet with cat ears (yeah, cat ears) and an extra one, which was always there for Mom. I didn't want to let her use this but getting caught by the cops was a big no, too.

A song came to my ears and I quickly got my phone from my bag, answering the call from Mom.

"Where are you, young lady?!" She yelled from the other end, making me wince as I pulled the phone away from my ear.

"Jeez, I'm on my way home," I said, placing the device back to my ear. "And there’s an unexpected package coming, by the way.”

Only silence came from the other end of the call and after a couple of seconds, Mom finally replied, “Where did it come from?”

Okay, she got it.

“It says Unearthly on the package.” 

“. . . How many?”

“One.”

“Alright . . . I’ll get things ready. Be careful.”

"I will. See you later, Mom.." I ended the call and messaged her that someone claiming to be from the same world as Dad came to meet us and she was sent by Dad's best friend to protect us. I also typed that I was going home with her.

Without waiting for her reply, I threw my phone back inside my bag and finally wore it usually as well as my bow and quiver. I looked back to the woman, whom I found curiously looking at my motorcycle, with no feathered wings on her back as well.

"You got a jacket or something?" I asked, plunging in the key to the hole, turning it, and hearing my precious bike purr to life. The LED lights that I attached gleamed in the dark.

"Jacket? Oh, a coat! Yes, I do." She tapped her bracelet, it glowed momentarily, and a brown coat materialized in her grasp. I stared down at the thing again as she pulled on her coat.

Well, whatever. I got on my bike and pushed it out from the shadows to the road. "Hop on," I demanded, "and don't you dare do something funny behind me or I'll drive us both off a bridge."

She frowned and mumbled a word of an alien language. "Of course, I won't. I want to live." She approached me and I handed her the helmet.

"Put this on first," I told her.

She raised a brow. "Uh, how?"

Right. She was an alien. I took the helmet and carefully put it on her head.

"This thing is like a helmet," she remarked and reached up, knocking on the helmet lightly as I adjusted the buckles on her.

"Because it’s a helmet," I huffed and clutched onto my bike. "Come on now."

She carefully hopped behind me and I could feel her hands hovering over my shoulders as she contemplated whether to hold onto me or not.

"It's alright to hold onto me," I said, "unless you're going to strangle me."

She placed her hands down my shoulders. "Though we just met, I'm starting to think you keep saying those things to annoy and provoke me."

I scoffed as I started to drive us to the city. "Duh, what else."

She uttered no answer until a few seconds later. "You're proud of it, too."

It did not take long for me to drive her and me to one of the main roads of the city, and as we did, I could hear her 'woah's and curious questions from the back. Ranging from "what's that?" and "how does that work?". She sounded like a kid and I was in the mood enough to answer her questions.

"Seriously, though, this feels like . . . I'm flying," she said loud enough for me to hear. "No wonder you have this, uh, motor—is it cycle or bake? Bike?"

"It can be either," I replied immediately and slowed down a bit before turning left.

"Motorbake?"

I snorted a laugh. "No, bike or cycle." I trailed her and me back to my home, where a girl, a daughter of a monster, had grown up with her ever-loving and caring mother.