《Wingless》


 Evelyn I

    <h1>Evelyn I</h1>


    The door smashes open with the anger of the intruders who barge into my room. I can feel the wall rattle from the force of wood smashing against the wood, and the floor rumbles from the intruders¡¯ heavy boots storming in.


    I do not dare to peek out of my closet. These intruders want blood, and they are not going to spill mine.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the girl?¡± Something crashes in my room. From the shattering glass permeating the crash, I am going to assume it is the sculpture of a tiger Muriel gave me for my birthday last year. It is all I can do to keep my anger contained and not burst out of the closet.


    Yet I know I am hopeless against these intruders. Even though I am a Level Five, and they are Level Fours, my healing magic will never hurt them. You cannot heal a person to death. At most I could constrain them, but that would come at great risk to myself.


    ¡°The princess ain¡¯t here,¡± says a gruff voice.


    ¡°She has to be! I saw her run in here with my own two eyes!¡±


    I steady my breathing. I need to stay calm, or they will hear me. My closet may be perfectly camouflaged against my wall for situations like this, but one suspicious sound and my cover is blown.


    ¡°Leave her,¡± says a deep female voice. ¡°We¡¯re not here for her. The queen is more important.¡±


    ¡°But what about using the princess as bait?¡±


    ¡°No matter. The royal guard is already on alert. My darkness barrier can only hold them at bay for so long, so we must not waste time. Come. Let us seize Northern Aldridge for our own.¡±


    The heavy boots storm out of my room. I do not dare take another breath until I am sure I am alone.


    I burst out of my closet, half expecting one of the Level Four intruders to sit on my four-poster bed in wait for me. But I know I cannot hide forever. They spoke about the queen, my mother. I cannot allow them to do anything to her.


    I verify my fears as I examine the glass covering the floor. The tiger¡¯s paw lies near the shattered remains of its tail, and its eye has split in a million pieces. I suppose once this is over, I will have to bring in to a Level Three artisan for repair.


    I unlock my trunk and pull out my staff ¨C a gnarly old walking stick my mom gave me for training years ago. Tomorrow, when I turn seventeen, Conor will give me a weapon worthy of not only and adult¡¯s hand, but my hand.


    But I must not waste any precious time. I run past the shattered remains of my door to the castle hallways. Several bodies lie on the ground ¨C maids, guards, and retainers alike. From their icy injuries, I can only conclude the main assault force are Level Fours specializing in cold and ice.


    Several windows blow in cold, snowy air through their damaged panes. These Level Fours really destroy everything in their path. We will need to contract several Level Threes to make the due repairs. In a country such as Northern Aldridge, where we have snowfall 300 days a year, we cannot afford to lose any heat to escape our dwellings. I grip on the thin fabric of my long red dress. I must wonder why the Angels from the south give us such thin clothes for such cold conditions.


    My mother¡¯s chambers are at the end of the hall, but she should not be in them at this moment. She should be in the throne room, preparing for her judgment over the sinners and lawbreakers of the country. She always claims of how hard such a process is, but to me it has always seemed easy. She hears about some person disobeying the laws of the church, or the laws of the land, and then she sentences them to death. What is the difficulty of such a task?


    The throne room¡¯s door has suffered the same fate as my room. The Level Fours have surrounded the throne itself ¨C their dirty boots staining the pristine golden floor. The sole woman of the group steps forward and throws her raven hair aside, out of her face.


    The woman seated on the throne, my mother, stands up and casts her golden eyes at raven-haired woman. ¡°What business do you have with me, Clara?¡±


    ¡°You know exactly why I¡¯m here. I, Clara of the Northern Reaches, have come to claim what is rightfully mine ¨C the throne you now sit on. I ask you, Gwendolin the Cursed, surrender peacefully. You are horribly outnumbered.¡±


    Indeed, there are at least twenty Level Fours in the room, compared to the puny force of my mother, my father (who sits on a lower throne, as my mother makes all the decisions), and their two retainers.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    My mother examines their forces. ¡°What do you mean by rightfully yours? This throne has passed down from mother to daughter for generations, and I intend to keep it that way.¡±


    ¡°A real leader is one the people choose, not one born into the role. Your people are starving, and they may not speak it openly, but they desire a new leader who cares about their wants and needs. You are being deposed. We shall ensure you every right and privilege you currently enjoy, but ownership of the castle and the kingdom shall pass to me. I shall negotiate fairer rates with the Angels, and we shall enter a time of good and plenty.¡±


    My mom slams her foot on the ground. ¡°You fool. Angels are not to be trifled with. You cannot negotiate with an Angel. They provide us with what we need, and have created us. They control our very lives, and are to be worshiped. They are divine beings, and your blasphemy will cost you your head!¡±


    Clara points her finger at my mother. ¡°Then I sentence you to death for your crimes against the country. Men, please teach this failure of a queen some manners.¡±


    My mother smirks as they charge in at her. She is going to get hurt! She cannot fend off twenty men at once.


    I have to save her. I grip my staff and charge in. But I barely make it to the middle of the floor when an arm of solid muscle wraps around my neck. The man puts a silver blade on my neck, threatening to spill blood if I so much as move against his wishes.


    Clara whistles, which stops the charging Level Fours in their tracks. ¡°It seems we do not have to fight you directly anymore. Your daughter has made the task easier for us.¡±


    My mother¡¯s confident pose changes to one of sheer horror. ¡°You leave Evelyn alone!¡±


    Clara saunters over to me and lifts my chin. ¡°Evelyn, huh? I never thought I¡¯d get to meet you face to face. You have your mother¡¯s eyes.¡± Of course I do. Golden eyes are the symbol of royalty, passed down from mother to daughter. They are so much more beautiful than those wicked black eyes adorning Clara¡¯s brow.


    She lets go of my chin. ¡°I shall give you a choice. You shall peacefully release the kingdom to me, or your daughter will lie dying in a pool of her own blood, like all her retainers and maids before her.¡± My heart thumps when I think of Muriel lying dead in the hallway. No, she is out in the slums again with her family. She is not a victim. She cannot be one.


    That is all of a trigger my mother needs. ¡°You shall release her, or your families will not even have a corpse left to bury.¡±


    ¡°Then you have made your decision. Brady, show this arrogant queen what happens to her daughter when she defies us.¡±


    My assailant, Brady, steadies his knife on my throat. A drip of blood escapes my neck and runs down his blade. Another few seconds and I shall die, returning in spirit south of the Gate of Heaven to my true heavenly home of Aldridge.


    And then he bursts in flames.


    I back up, lest the flames catch hold of my robe. He cannot even scream, as the flame is so hot and white it incinerates him nigh-on instantly. Clara spins to face my mother.


    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that a nice little trick you¡¯ve got there. Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you use magic before. But you¡¯re only one Level Five, compared against twenty, or now, nineteen Level Fours. How do you intend to destroy us?¡±


    My mother smirks. ¡°You really have no clue, do you? Do you understand the true power of a Level Five? You assume because five Level Threes can overtake a Level Four, the same must be true for me. That is what makes you a fool.¡±


    She lifts her hands up, which causes even Clara to stagger back in fear. ¡°You think there is a limit to my power. You would be correct, as I cannot dream of ever destroying the Gate of Heaven ¨C nor should I ever desire to. But within the realm of humans, the world is at my command. Should I desire for all of Northern Aldridge to crumble to ash, it shall. And so, the same goes for you.¡±


    Sensing the danger, Clara thrusts her hands in front of her face. A thick black wall forms between her men and my mother, so thick it seems to suck at my very soul.


    ¡°You think your puny Level Four magic can stand against me?¡±


    The moment she speaks the words, the assaulters burst in flame. Even Clara, with all her grandiose mannerisms, cannot get so much as a scream out. The barrier collapses, along with them. Their ashes sprinkle on the floor, all which remains of the Level Four intruders.


    My mother¡¯s eyes raise to me. ¡°Evelyn, are you all right?¡±


    ¡°It is Eve, mother. Do not call me Evelyn.¡±


    ¡°I named you Evelyn, and I shall call you Evelyn so long as I live in this castle. But seeing how you can pipe up such insolences to me, I suppose you are uninjured. Then we shall discuss the more important matter as to why you entered my throne room uninvited.¡±


    I tug at the collar of my robe, knowing full well what she means.


    ¡°You are a reckless fool who cannot understand her own danger. I built that closet for you to hide in should something like this occur, not for you to burst out of it and throw yourself in harm¡¯s way!¡±


    ¡°But you were in danger. I had to help.¡±


    She returns to her chair. ¡°You saw my power. It¡¯s the same power my mother had, and her mother before her. The form may change ¨C my mother had been a master of darkness similar to Clara ¨C but the power is always enough to destroy the entire continent. Or in your case, save it.¡±


    I grip my staff.


    My mother leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. ¡°We have much to discuss tonight at the dinner table. You are to return to your studies for the remainder of the day and not disturb me. I shall forgive your foolish act, but you must remember that your foolishness will cause your downfall one day. We will speak later.¡±


    As much as I wish to continue, I understand her sentiment. I exit the throne room, but I have no intention of returning to my studies. The snowfall doesn¡¯t seem to be too heavy out there ¨C typical for October ¨C so maybe I can take my horse, Hayley, out for a ride.


    A sweet smell wafts through the castle from the kitchens below. From the unique scent of ginger, I understand this is not one of the kitchen maids hard at work. This is a real baker¡¯s daughter, putting her skills to work. She truly was not hurt in the raid.


    My heart flutters, and I rush down the stairs to meet Muriel. I cannot wait to see the love of my life again.

 Muriel I

    The cool winds of the snowy October day howl against my back. They pierce through my thin white uniform, chilling me to the bone. Yet I know I don¡¯t have much further to go. The castle lies ahead, a beacon of warmth against the frigid air surrounding it.


    I thrust open the servant¡¯s door. Even though I have full permission to use the front gates, it never feels right when Eve makes me walk through them with her. At least with the servants I can feel a little better.


    ¡°Ah, Miss Muriel, welcome home. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll want a bath after another dangerous trip to the slums.¡±


    Edana always means the best, even when she says such hurtful things. This castle is not my home. It is my place of residence, but it will never be my home. Home is the slums. Home is my family still cooped up in their small abode, baking bread for not only themselves, but all the other Level Zeros. Home is the place of my childhood.


    My bow and quiver weigh heavily on my back. I¡¯ll need to polish them for Eve¡¯s ascension ceremony tomorrow, but for now I remove them along with my heavy metal boots.


    ¡°Truth be told, I only really wanted to kick those stupid things off. But a bath¡¯s not too bad of an idea.¡±


    Edana leads me to the already prepared tub. The porcelain walls sparkle and reflect beautiful lights from the chandelier in all directions. A giant white basin is in the center of the room, plated with silver.


    This is the bath for the servants. I rarely use the royal bath unless Eve asks me. I don¡¯t deserve such privilege. Just like with the entranceway, I¡¯m much more comfortable in here. Yet, I don¡¯t deserve this. I deserve to bathe in the wooden barrels of the Level Zeros, filled with grimy rainwater.


    Needless to say, I do not spend much time in the bath. Edana covers my nakedness with a long purple gown with long white sleeves and a gold-plated belt. Eve likes to see me dressed up like this, but I¡¯d much rather be in my peasant¡¯s gown, wearing an apron.


    ¡°I might not be able to do the former, but I can do the latter.¡± I race past Edana. Hanging on a hook in the kitchen is my apron ¨C the custom made white apron with my name embroidered in. I tie it around my back, feeling more at home by the minute. After taking a deep breath, I gather my ingredients and begin mixing my dough.


    ¡°Edana, if you¡¯d please.¡± My hands are too busy kneading, so I¡¯m forced to point her to the over with my shoulder.


    She grabs a piece of twine tight in her hands. Her face wrinkles in concentration, and every ounce of her being devotes itself to that one strand. When it seems as if nothing will happen, the tiny string bursts in flame. She lights a piece of kindling with the flame, and thus begins to build her fire.


    That tiny power is what makes her a Level One, and my lack thereof is what makes me a Level Zero.


    I score my bread and stick it in the oven. It isn¡¯t long until the sweet smell of ginger tickles my nostrils ¨C my family¡¯s secret ingredient. Yet this isn¡¯t enough to erase my memories of the slums, so I throw together the ingredients for a second batch.


    A soft pair of arms wrap around my shoulders. Her soft voice whispers, ¡°Something smells wonderful. But I am not sure if it is the bread or you.¡±


    She¡¯s always like this. ¡°I sure hope it isn¡¯t me, Eve. I just got out of the bath!¡±


    She spins me around and locks her lips on mine. No matter how many times she¡¯s done this, I¡¯ve never been able to accustom myself to it. It¡¯s as much of a surprise the hundredth time as the first time. Edana takes this cue to leave and give us some privacy.


    When she releases me from her hold, I pull out my perfectly brown bread.


    ¡°Who are you baking for?¡± she asks.


    The scoring¡¯s a little off, but it should taste almost as good as my father¡¯s. ¡°Nobody in particular. I¡¯ll probably bring it to my kind in the slums the day after tomorrow. Do you wanna come?¡±


    She inspects my bread with a much-less-than-studious eye. ¡°I think I will pass. A Level Five should not associate with Level Zeroes.¡±


    Had I not known Eve, I¡¯d have had my heart torn to shreds by her statement. She¡¯d be no different than the others who believe Level Zeros are all the same ¨C thieves, murderers, and rapists. But now, I know she means the Level Zeroes would never accept her. Showing her face in the slums would be akin to a hate crime for them.


    Sometimes I wish magic never existed. Everything in our life came based on our magical rank. Even the slightest magical capacity, a Level One, would allow one to work in respectable fields such as husbandry, education, hunting, and logging. At Level Two, one would spend their days offering their magic to the crystals for the ¡°Angels.¡± At Level Three, one would become an artisan, and sell goods and services for the nobles ¨C the Level Fours. And only Eve and her mother possessed the power of Level Five, at least since her grandmother died three years ago.


    Against the flames whipping in the oven, I cannot help but notice Eve¡¯s pale skin and her caked up sweat. ¡°Are you all right?¡± I finally ask.


    She pulls out her hair tie, allowing her long blonde locks to drape themselves well past her shoulder blades. ¡°A group of Level Fours attacked us. My mother disposed of them easily, but a lot of the guard died from the assault. I was worried you were part of the guard.¡±


    I¡¯d hug her if not for all the flour on my hands. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. You must¡¯ve been so scared.¡± She must be crushed from losing so many close friends in the guard.


    Eve kicks at the floor. ¡°Scared? They had no chance. But they destroyed the tiger statue you gave me.¡±


    Then again, this is Eve. A stupid glass figurine is of more importance to her than the lives of all her guards and retainers, save me. I know better than to lecture her on the importance of human lives, so I instead redouble my efforts to knead my dough.


    ¡°Why do you do that?¡± she asks.


    ¡°I need to agitate the yeast and develop gluten, or the bread will never rise.¡±


    ¡°No, I do not mean you motions. Why do you bake? You are my love, not a servant. You should leave such trivial matters to them.¡±


    ¡°I like it.¡± I¡¯d explained this to her plenty of times before, but Eve¡¯s never been the most open-minded individual in Northern Aldridge. ¡°It¡¯s a nice way to forget my worries and stress.¡±


    Eve examines my hands as they fold the dough and push. ¡°Can I try?¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Even if I wanted to say no, I have no way of refusing a request from the princess herself. Yet, it would be nice for her to have some sort of stress relief in life. I move out of the way so she can knead.


    Or, so I thought. She digs her fingers in the dough and rubs it in circles. No flour, no folding ¨C only playing. I can¡¯t help but laugh.


    ¡°What?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Here, let me show you.¡± I cannot help but notice how soft her hands are when I guide them through the motions. ¡°First, you dip your hands in flour. Helps prevent them from getting sticky. Then you repeat the motion. Fold the dough, push it out, and turn.¡±


    Eve¡¯s hands are simply too weak to knead, so I guide her the entire way.


    ¡°I do not see the fun in this,¡± she says.


    ¡°It¡¯s not necessarily fun. It¡¯s a stress relief, and can pass the time.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it is better than returning to my studies.¡±


    My hands freeze in place. ¡°You were supposed to be studying?¡±


    She kneads with renewed vigor. ¡°What does it matter? I know all I need for tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t accept that. We¡¯re going to study here.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    I push on her hands. ¡°Name me the seven types of magic.¡±


    She winces from the true strength of my hands. ¡°Fire, Water, Lightning, Earth, Wind, Light, and Shadow. An individual¡¯s type is determined at birth, and can never be changed.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now tell me about inheritance.¡± I relieve my grip, but she still winces. Perhaps she¡¯s wincing from my quiz.


    ¡°There is no such thing. Having two parents of water type in no way means their child will be water type. Magic levels are random as well, up to Level Four.¡±


    ¡°Wrong.¡± I push on her hands hard. ¡°Or, at least, half-wrong. You forgot the two guarantees of magic.¡±


    She digs her finger deeper in the dough. ¡°Guarantee One: The Princess, her mother, and her grandmother will be Level Fives, and the only ones in the kingdom. Guarantee Two: If one parent is a Level Zero, so will their kid.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I release her hands.


    ¡°But what about our child? If the princess is guaranteed to have a Level Five daughter, and you are a Level Zero, which Guarantee takes precedent?¡±


    Eve may be the princess, but that doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s smart. ¡°We¡¯re both girls. We can¡¯t have a daughter together.¡±


    Night falls, and Eve invites me to dine with her and her family. This has become a near daily ritual, hence why I did not eat with my family earlier.


    Dinner is as exquisite and over-indulgent as ever. Despite only having to serve four people, the cooks have prepared a full roast oxlark, an entire tray of jellied kelip, half a rack of yorlin, and my favorite ¨C a dab of pori on each of our plates. By the time we¡¯ve eaten our fill, only an eighth of the food is gone. Before Eve invited me in, this food would be thrown into the furnace or fed to the horses. Now I bring it to the slums to feed the starving people.


    The cooks bring out a magnificent cake for dessert. But Eve pays no attention to it, and instead pulls out a small loaf of sweetbread from her bag.


    ¡°Put that away,¡± says the queen. ¡°You are the princess. You do not need to eat street trash.¡±


    Eve grips on her bread. ¡°This is not street trash, mother.¡±


    ¡°Whether you bought it yourself or if Muriel brought it in, it is still from the streets. Discard it at once.¡±


    Eve defiantly rips off a piece and chews on it. ¡°It is neither. I made it with Muriel, so it is better than any of the desserts you may bring it.¡± Of course, the latter part is a lie. We over-kneaded the dough, so it came out tough and chewy, and Eve insisted on adding extra sugar at the end which made it overly sweet. But I remember how happy I had been when I pulled out my first loaf back home, so I can¡¯t blame her.


    ¡°Is this true?¡± asks the queen.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sorry, your highness. I only did as she requested.¡±


    She cuts off a sliver of her cake. ¡°I suppose I should lecture about the importance of a princess not engaging in such common activities, but it is too late for that. Come tomorrow morning, Evelyn shall turn seventeen, and she shall become the new queen. I have no more say in the matter.¡±


    Eve nibbles on her bread, not really caring about her mother¡¯s words.


    ¡°However, there is a matter we must discuss as a family. Muriel, I must ask you to leave us.¡±


    I get up from my chair, but Eve pushes me back down. ¡°She can stay.¡±


    Her father, the king and a rather quiet man, shakes his head. ¡°This really is a private matter. You may choose to discuss this with her later.¡±


    ¡°Nothing is private.¡± Eve folds her arms. ¡°Muriel is like family, so what I have the right to hear, so does she.¡±


    The queen sets her fork down. ¡°This is a command. She must leave.¡±


    Eve gets up out of her seat. ¡°Then I suppose it isn¡¯t important enough for me to hear either. I shall head to my chambers with her for the night.¡±


    ¡°Evelyn!¡± the queen stands. But Eve is too head-strong to listen to her. She pulls me along, making for the exit.


    The king heaves a sigh. ¡°Muriel can stay. This is too important to not discuss. But if you ever wish to be a true queen, you must do something about that arrogance of yours.¡±


    We return to the table. The queen bows her head in her hands for a time before speaking. ¡°There¡¯s no use in hiding it any more. Evelyn, this is about your father. The truth is, he is not your real father. He is a man I fell in love with.¡±


    As much of a shock as this revelation is to me, Eve doesn¡¯t seem to care. ¡°He has always seemed a bit different to me. Then who is my father?¡±


    The queen keeps her head bowed. ¡°You do not have one.¡±


    ¡°So he is dead?¡± asks Eve.


    ¡°No. You do not have a father. I gave birth to you, but I was still a virgin when it occurred. Yet I knew such a thing must happen, as per our family.¡±


    ¡°Our family?¡±


    The queen stays silent for a bit. ¡°Our family may be royalty, and the most powerful class of mages in the kingdom. But years ago, we were cursed. I do not know the cause of the curse, but I know the effects of it. We cannot conceive children of our own, no matter how hard we try. But part of the curse is also a blessing, for in our thirty-third year, we shall conceive a child without a father, and give birth to them on our thirty-fourth birthday. They shall always be a girl, and they shall always have Level Five abilities.¡±


    I check over at Eve. She¡¯s going to need some consoling after this revelation. But rather than shock or depression, sheer joy emanates from her body.


    ¡°Evelyn?¡± asks the queen. ¡°I know this is hard on you, but it is the truth.¡±


    Eve bounces out of her chair. ¡°Queen at seventeen, pregnant at thirty-three? Got it! Come on Muriel, we have some things to discuss in my bed chamber.¡±


    The queen stands up. ¡°Why her? We are your parents! She is nothing more than a filthy Level Zero you chose to bring in as your personal guard!¡±


    Eve smiles. ¡°You really have no idea, do you?¡± She grabs my hand and pulls me along. I barely get off a bow to the queen before she drags me away from that place.


    He room is the same as always, consisting of her four-poster bed, a wooden floor, and a large bureau consisting of not only her clothes, but mine as well. She pulls out our nightgowns. ¡°I cannot believe her, calling you filthy.¡±


    I undo my dress and slip on my nightgown ¨C a perfect match with Eve¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m used to it by now. Besides, you used to treat Level Zeroes the same way.¡±


    ¡°I know I did, and I shall forever regret it. You have taught me a lot since I first met you.¡± We crawl into bed together, with the excitement of the past day fresh on our minds.


    ¡°I¡¯d think you¡¯d be more upset about your curse.¡± As usual, Eve curls in a ball. I wrap my arms around her and run my fingers through her crisp blonde hair. What hairstyle will she wear tomorrow? She seems to change it every day.


    ¡°No, the curse is a blessing. We can marry each other and have a child now. We are no longer bound to the laws of biology.¡±


    She¡¯s forgetting an important fact from her studies, as per usual. Marriage is arranged through the church and with approval from the ¡°Angels¡± ¨C the stupid humans with beautiful white wings who pretend to be divine. They would never approve two girls marrying each other. Of course, I do not bring this up, as such blasphemy has cost many people their heads.


    We lay like that for a while, until something wet drips on my arm. ¡°Eve?¡±


    She curls up tighter, but there is no hiding the tears in her eyes. ¡°When those Level Fours attacked today, I was so helpless without you. I cannot use offensive magic like my mother, or even defensive shadow magic. I am forced to stand on the sidelines and heal those in need. Why was I born like this? Why do I have such a useless power? How can I be a queen if I cannot show true power? How can I rule without my people fearing me?¡±


    I could always explain to her the virtues of ruling through love instead of fear, but she doesn¡¯t need my lectures right now. ¡°There is a purpose to everything in this world. Every life, every power, and every position. We may not know it, but one is definitely there. Don¡¯t question your ability. You may find yourself grateful you have it over any others.¡±


    I wait for her reply, but none comes. Instead, her soft breathing permeates the room.


    I grip her tighter in my arms and try to get to sleep. She is pretty cute when she loses her composure like that, even if it¡¯s only for a second. It is moments like these that make me question my purpose in really being here.


    Am I really only here to help feed my people? Or could it be my girlfriend act is more than a farce to get what I want?

 Evelyn II

    Snow whisks across Northern Aldridge, slamming into the sides of the Gate of Heaven. My thin blue dress does nothing to stop the cold from seeping inside and piercing my skin. Yet, this dress is not made for function, as it reveals nearly all my legs save a miniskirt, and leaves my shoulders bare. It is the dress I had hand-selected last year for my ascension.


    The people gather around the Gate of Heaven as far as the eye can see. Ascensions only occur once every thirty-four years, so even without mandating attendance, they would have come to watch me become their new queen. Beyond that, most never have a chance to marvel at the beauties of the Gate of Heaven, which towers thirty times higher than the tallest man of Northern Aldridge. On either side of it extends a wall of equal height and even greater strength, passing far beyond the Beriac Forest to the west and the Lural Mountains to the east. No man or woman alive has ever seen its end.


    ¡°Do you ever wonder if there¡¯s anything beyond our kingdom?¡± Muriel stands at guard beside me, donning the white and gold uniform I designed to blend in with the perpetual snowfall. She holds her bow in hand. I have never personally seen her shoot it, but if Conor is to be believed, she never misses her mark.


    I know she is not referring to Aldridge, as the divine world beyond the gate is obviously inhabited. ¡°No, there is not. We are alone.¡± That is what the Angels tell us, and even logic defies such a thought. The Lural Mountains are impassable to the east, and even more so to the north. As for the Beriac Forest, no man or woman who has stepped foot in there to find the other side has ever returned.


    A flash of fire erupts in the air, signifying the start of the ceremony. The people cheer for my mother¡¯s little magic trick as she steps to the forefront of the stage. I will be able to perform crowd pleasers like that with light magic, but what use will it be when I have to deal with rebellions? What use is this useless power of healing? I clutch on Muriel¡¯s words.


    ¡°Thank you for coming.¡± My mother¡¯s voice booms across the crowd, magically amplified by a wind mage. ¡°It has been an honor and privilege to serve you as your queen these past thirty-four years. Yet there comes a time in every queen¡¯s life when she must hand over the reign to their daughter¡ª¡±


    The first thing I will do as queen is set an end to these long speeches. My arms and legs are a webbed mound of goosebumps, and I am sure the commoners are not feeling particularly great either.


    My mother motions to me after finishing her overly long speech. This is the ritual I have practiced nightly with Muriel. I take my knee in front of my mother and bow my head. She lifts her pendant off her neck, revealing the shining green emerald adorning it. Even in the cloud cover and snow, it seems to radiate with its own beautiful light. She places it around my neck, says a few words, and steps away so I may rise.


    ¡°I accept your pendant, and my new duty to my people, until the day my own daughter is my age, or failing to bear my daughter, my son.¡± From last night¡¯s conversation, I understand how meaningless the second half of my vow is.


    Conor ascends the stage, with a long object wrapped in cloth. This is the moment I have truly been waiting for. Every queen receives a staff representing their power to replace the gnarly wooden staffs of their youth. My mother, for instance, has a large torch as hers.


    ¡°Miss Evelyn,¡± he holds the cloth out to me. ¡°The church presents to you a weapon to keep the faith. We ask you to wield it and continue to honor our creators, the Angels, as your ancestors have.¡±


    I pull back the cloth and set my eyes on the beautiful staff lying in his hands. It is a smooth polished white marble, save for its tip ¨C which is adorned with a circle quartered by a cross. A truly magnificent staff for a truly magnificent queen.


    I wrap my fingers around the smooth marble. With this I am queen. The people shall obey me without question, or shall lose their heads over it. For the next thirty-four years, Northern Aldridge shall be mine.


    ¡°Created us? The ¡®Angels¡¯? Give me a break!¡± The crowd breaks to leave him standing alone ¨C nobody wanting the kingdom¡¯s guards to confuse themselves for the blasphemer. But this is a man who is not afraid to die. ¡°Yeah, back away from me like the cowards you are. At least I have the guts to stand up to this so-called queen. Listen, you little blonde pipsqueak. We¡¯ve lived our entire lives without enough food, without enough oil for heat, and not enough clothing to keep this damned snow off our bodies! And I¡¯m sick and tired of it. Until you stand up to your fake ¡®Angels¡¯ from the south, I¡¯ll never respect you or anyone in your line as a queen.¡±


    He spits, his saliva landing right on the boot of a guard.


    ¡°Unhand me, you bastards!¡± he shouts.


    The guards lift him off the ground, with one of them lifting his visor. ¡°What would you ask us to do with the blasphemer?¡±


    I never thought some so mundane would be my first real order. ¡°The same as always. Execute him.¡±


    They throw him on the ground. The crowd separates for a man in a black hood, wielding a giant axe. This should be good for the crowd to fall in line.


    ¡°No!¡± shouts Muriel.


    She grabs my shoulder with such intensity, I have to wince. Had she been anyone other than my one true love, she would be sent to join that man now. But I understand she can be a little too strong with her hands when her emotions ride unchecked.


    ¡°Do you know this man?¡± My mother did order the execution of her grandfather when she was only a babe, so I must be careful not to repeat her mistakes.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Muriel releases her grip. The axe-wielding man stands in his place, awaiting my signal. ¡°No, I don¡¯t. But you must understand. Every life in this world has meaning. It¡¯s precious. We cannot throw it away over a couple of words.¡±


    As much as I wish to bring down the axe, I cannot deny a heartfelt wish from her. I love her far too much to let a single decision come between us.


    The man stares up at me, venom in his mouth and fire in his eyes. Yet, I only shake my head. ¡°Lock him in the dungeon. Ensure he is well taken care of, and arrange for a surgeon to remove his tongue within the fortnight.¡±


    The guards seem a little baffled by my move, yet they follow it nonetheless. Even the crowd seems confused, some of the more daring ones whispering amongst themselves.


    My mother stays silent, but from her crossed arms, I can sense her disappointment in me. It is not matter to me. This is my kingdom now, and her opinion matters not.


    Muriel and I descend the stairs, beyond the line of guards. Surrounding us are ten huge carts, each filled to the brim with blue crystals which glow with their own light. Over the past month, as training for my rein, I had been placed in charge of overseeing the manufacture of the crystals. Every aspect of the operation ¨C from mining the ore to polishing the shape to ensuring the Level Twos contributed enough magic to make them work ¨C had been under my watchful eye. For a new queen can mess up most anything, but she must never mess up a tribute.


    The gates unhinge themselves ¨C pulled apart by forty beings on the other side. Each one of them has a pair of white wings on their back, signifying their status as Angels.


    That man is such an idiot to think these creatures could be anything other than divine. Humans do not have wings, nor do they have the strength to pull open such a steadfast gate. Even if our entire kingdom attempt to push open the Gate of Heaven, it would not budge an inch.


    Through the gates emerges a single girl. From appearance alone, she cannot be much older than me. But, my mother had warned me not to be deceived by her appearance, as she transforms her body to the same age as the queen every ascension.


    She keeps her dirty blonde hair tucked up in a bonnet, save for two locks on either side which drop to her torso. She wears a navy-blue tunic which falls to her thighs, adorned with images of the moon. On her back are the pair of white wings typical of an Angel, but these are smaller ¨C to the point where she has to walk instead of fly.


    She approaches and locks her golden eyes onto my own. Golden eyes are the symbol of royalty for humans and Angels alike, so she must be some sort of princess of the Angels.


    ¡°Are you the Wingless queen?¡± She keeps her eyes transfixed on mine.


    I drop to my knees, hearing the Angel¡¯s term for us for the first time from one of their mouths. ¡°Indeed I am, your grace. We have created the crystals as offerings to you, as you requested.¡±


    She picks one of the crystals out of the box and examines its hexagonal prism shape, coming to a point on either end. She speaks not a word before placing it in the cart and motioning for her men to pull the carts away. Still more men drop down crate upon crate of supplies. Some contain ingredients for food, some contain thin fabric and string to sew our clothes, and some contain oil to heat and light our homes. As always, there is never enough, but it is more that we would have without the gifts from the angels.


    She turns without a word. ¡°Next month we shall be expecting double tribute and gifting the Wingless double the usual. We shall not be able to reach your people in December, when the ice becomes too unstable.¡±


    I had been expecting the new quota, but never this unemotional trade. The convoy returns to the gate.


    ¡°Your grace!¡± I call.


    She raises her shoulders in anger. ¡°You dare speak to me without being spoken to?! Who do you think you are?¡±


    I cower down, half expecting lighting to strike me from the sky. Yet, when none does, I brave my question. ¡°How are the crystals? Are they high-quality?¡±


    She picks up a crystal again. ¡°It is sufficient. Remember, I expect double next month.¡± The convoy departs through the gate, leaving Muriel and I seemingly alone. Of course, we are not alone, as thousands of civilians watched the exchange behind the wall of guards.


    I fight back tears. She said it is sufficient. Despite my best efforts, I did not impress her. I did not make her happy with my work. I only achieved the bare minimum.


    Muriel places her hand on my shoulder. ¡°Isn¡¯t that great? She accepted your work the first time! My dad used to always tell me stories how most queens failed and they had to spend a week under the watchful eyes of the ¡®Angels¡¯ to redo and repair their work.¡±


    But she is only being nice. The Angel was not impressed with my work in the slightest. I had failed.


    I am not going to let her down again. The problem is I had used my mother¡¯s old methods. She would supply the Level Twos with a comfortably living, and they would donate their daily pool of magic to the crystals. Level Threes would chip in for November and March¡¯s double quotas ¨C being able to supple the same amount of power as the Level Twos even though there were more than three times as many Levels Twos as Level Threes.


    But Level Twos are weak, so they make weaker crystals. An idea forms, and I rush on the stage so the kingdom can see me.


    ¡°This is my first proclamation. For the next month, all magic wielding citizens of the kingdom shall be required to participate in the creation of the tribute. From Level One to Level Four, nobody shall be allowed to sleep unless they have given their all to the crystals. Level Zeroes shall be required to mine the ore.¡± My eyes catch Muriel. ¡°Nobody shall be excluded save the kingdom guards and the royal retainers.¡±


    At least that should save her from my proclamation. The crowd, however, down not like this at all. They erupt in a flurry of shouts and curses, angry and annoyed. As well they should be. They have been lazy for far too long, making the Level Twos do all the work. If those Level Fours have the energy to stage a coup d¡¯¨¦tat against my mother, then they can put it to better use in the crystals.


    The guards work to contain the situation, and I exit the stage.


    ¡°Eve!¡± shouts Muriel. I cannot stop. If I listen to her, my resolve to do this will break. I have to press on and explain it to her later. It is hard enough to gather every civilian in the kingdom.


    My mother stands at the base of the stairs, folding her arms across her chest. ¡°Rescind your order at once,¡± she commands. ¡°You have not the slightest clue as to what you are doing.¡±


    From years of obedience, my feet turn back. Yet I stay firm and dig my staff in the ground. ¡°I know exactly what I am doing. Who do you think you are to tell me otherwise?¡±


    She grips her staff hard. ¡°Magic is a dangerous substance. You cannot fool around with it like some toy. You could bring ruin to us all.¡±


    ¡°Cannot be too bad if we are still here two thousand years later using it.¡±


    ¡°Do not dare speak to me like that! I am your mother!¡± She lifts her hand to strike me as she did ten years ago.


    Yet this time, a gloved hand stops her. The guard holds her steady and whispers, ¡°Calm down, Gwendolin.¡±


    ¡°Gwendolin? How dare you address me as such?¡±


    I point my staff at her. ¡°He has nothing else to address you as now, for I have the jewel. I am the queen, and you are not. And unless you wish to stage a coup d¡¯¨¦tat against your own daughter and break a two-thousand-year tradition, you shall learn your place.¡±


    I beckon to Muriel. ¡°Come. I need a walk after this excitement.¡±

 Muriel II

    Eve practically pulls me through the back roads to the castle, each one blocked off by a row of guards. She doesn¡¯t speak, and instead keeps towards her destination. I¡¯m nothing more than a cat following in a tiger¡¯s footsteps.


    The castle steps seem somewhat eerier than before, as if the oil torches aren¡¯t casting enough light on the snow-covered surface. Eve stops at the top steps and points out. ¡°It should begin soon.¡±


    I trace the direction of her finger. ¡°What should?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t answer, for the answer shows itself to me. She is pointing to ¡°the pit¡± ¨C a large hollow hole in the middle of the kingdom where a good chuck of Northern Aldridge¡¯s civilians work. It is the site of an ancient meteor impact, so its rock has special properties ¨C namely, the ability to retain magic like a storage compartment. It is here the magical crystals get fashioned and the Level Twos give their energy to them.


    Out of the pit comes a pale white glow, which soon intensifies to a thicker cream color, before settling on a solid yellow.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I have never seen the pit glow like that before.


    ¡°You heard my order from before. What you are witnessing is a complete devotion from everyone in the kingdom to magic. No man, woman, or child is hoarding their powers away. The Angels will be so proud of me next time with all the crystals we make.¡±


    If she is still queen at the time. I bite my words, not daring to think of the latter situation. No matter how many soothing words I tell her at night about the usage of healing magic, it¡¯s not particularly useful without allies. Should a rebellion occur, it¡¯s not like she could burn up a rebellion like her mom, and she had lost her mom as an ally only an hour ago.


    If it did come to a rebellion, she¡¯d only have a few guards to defend her, including me. But I¡¯m not entirely sure I¡¯d defend her myself. After all, if the rebellion succeeded, as it most likely would, I¡¯d be executed for my relation to her.


    A high-pitched wail shrieks from the north. Eve ducks, and I cover my ears. It¡¯s like a combination of the sound of nails on a chalkboard and a squeaky wheel.


    When it ends, we rise ever slowly, half expecting the kingdom to be on fire or worse. Yet, despite a few dark clouds gathering above the Lural mountains to the north, there¡¯s nothing particularly different.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Evelyn attempts to straighten out her side ponytail, but failing that, rips out the hair band holding it in place.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± It¡¯s a rhetorical question, but either way, I¡¯m a bit scared about all of this.


    Eve takes on last glance to the north. ¡°Probably nothing. A Norlax waking from its hibernation, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Even if they did make those kind of noises, Norlaxes wake in March, not October.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t pay me much heed. ¡°I am going to the Beriac forest. I hope you will join me.¡±


    Has she gone insane? ¡°You know you can¡¯t. Nobody¡¯s ever come back from trying to find the other side. But even if there is another side, you have a kingdom to rule. Are you going to leave your people alone instead of guiding them to your goals?¡±


    She pats my head like I¡¯m a child. ¡°I don¡¯t mean exploring. I need somewhere private to tell you some plans for the kingdom. We won¡¯t leave sight of the kingdom, I promise.¡±


    I suppose I don¡¯t have much of a choice. I ensure my quiver has enough arrows should something go wrong, and proceed to follow Eve west past the castle.


    The Beriac forest is a massive assortment of trees, stretching south from the wall all the way up to the Lural mountains. The further west one marches, the more distance spreads between the wall and the Lural mountain. Yet the Beriac forest covers that space and then some, even encroaching on some mountain slopes.


    The lush evergreens tower above us, shading the word in the darkness of a fake night. Needles crunch beneath our feet on top of the packed snow and ice. I continue to check back as the glowing city grows frighteningly distant. We¡¯re not particularly far in, but with all the stories of gallant heroes who dared attempt to explore the forest never to return, I didn¡¯t want to take any chances.


    The high pitch wail shrieks again, this time much closer that before. We cover our ears, begging it to stop, yet it drones on and on without end.


    The city seems to glow brighter than before, a surefire sign more civilians are giving their magical energy to the crystals. I can¡¯t help but wonder if the shrieks and the eerie glow are somehow related. But it¡¯s an idle thought: we know the source of the glow, not the shriek.


    Eve shakes her head. ¡°I think we are far enough.¡± She¡¯s trying to ignore what she doesn¡¯t like. She¡¯ll never be a good queen if this is how she acts. But I¡¯ll need to defend her all the same.


    ¡°Why did we come out here?¡± Even with the city in view, I still feel like we¡¯re breaking some rule.


    ¡°This is about my mother. You saw how she acted during my ascension ceremony. She defied me. She cannot let go of her former status of queen.¡±


    It¡¯s not much of a surprise. Eve didn¡¯t particularly seem regal with her temper tantrum.


    Eve grips on the bark of a tree. ¡°People are too used to having her as a queen. I need to make sure people understand I am the ruler now, not her.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    She is making a valid point. Transitions are never easy, and are usually solved via a massive show of power. My dad still remembers how Eve¡¯s mother made fire dance in the sky to make the civilians fear her. Yet Eve can¡¯t do anything like that ¨C they¡¯d only stand in awe of her pretty lights.


    I move close to her. ¡°I know you are, and I know you can¡¯t do all the things she did to make your people fear you. But there¡¯s another way to rule instead of fear. It¡¯s through love. Let your people know how much you care about them. See that all their needs are taken care of, and work to make them better. Maybe even ask those ¡®Angels¡¯ for more than what they give. They may not know we¡¯re suffering as we are.¡±


    She breaks off a piece of bark from the tree. ¡°Angels know everything. They know exactly how much we need, and give it to us. Asking for more is gluttony.¡±


    I should have known better than to bring up the commoner¡¯s deepest wishes. ¡°Then there are plenty of other ways to rule with love. Instead of giving the majority of the food and supplies to the Level Fours, why not spread them out among all the people? If everyone chips in a little, you can stop a lot of suffering.¡±


    She tosses her bark aside. ¡°No. Your idea is good and all, but it¡¯s too quick, and it involves fighting for love ¨C something the civilians should give me for no reason other than I am their queen. No, I need to get rid of my mother somehow. I need to kill her.¡±


    I drop my hand. ¡°What are you saying? She¡¯s your mother!¡±


    ¡°She is also in my way. I will not let anyone stand in the way of my rule. She gave far too much leniency to defiance, and that is what led to the coup d¡¯¨¦tat yesterday. I won¡¯t allow that to happen.¡±


    She can¡¯t do something as horrible as matricide in cold blood! What kind of civilian would ever respect her then? But she¡¯s determined, so I have to appeal to her some other way. ¡°How can you? You can¡¯t overpower her. She¡¯d fry you to a crisp.¡±


    Eve smirks. ¡°The art of healing also involves knowing death. A little poison in her drink at dinner tonight, and she will never know the difference.¡±


    ¡°Eve!¡±


    She leans on a tree. ¡°I know the myth about matricide bringing curses on the perpetrator. I do not believe such things. The Angels are the one true religion. I will rip out the tongues of anyone who says other¡ª¡±


    My open palm strikes her cheek, forcing her head aside. Her eyes blaze up. ¡°You dare strike the queen? Who do you think you are?¡±


    ¡°A concerned civilian.¡± I¡¯m going to die for my actions, I know it. But somebody has to tell her the truth. ¡°And one who would like to call herself your lover. But if this is how you¡¯re going to act, then you might as well kill me and get over it. Have my words meant nothing to you? Do you not understand ¡®every life is precious¡¯ and think you can simply dispose of people who stand in your way? At least this time I can tell you for certain what your mom¡¯s purpose is: thirty-four years of wisdom on how to rule.¡±


    I kick at the snow. ¡°If you kill her, you might as well kill me alongside her. She¡¯s a human being, and no matter what she did, she doesn¡¯t deserve death for telling you your folly.¡±


    ¡°Folly?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the folly of forcing the entire kingdom to create your stupid magic crystals. The ¡®Angel¡¯ told you they were sufficient. That¡¯s all you can expect out of someone like them. They don¡¯t care about you or me, so they¡¯re not going to praise you on a job well done. You either provided enough for their trade, or not enough. But you¡¯re making even the Level Ones contribute the little magic they have. Your mom is right. You¡¯ve gone too far.¡±


    I lay down my bow and quiver. ¡°Even an amateur can pierce the heart. If you wish to execute me and go on your way, then do it. But I won¡¯t stand around and allow you to commit such heinous acts.¡± I hold my hands out like an eagle to show no resistance, and close my eyes to wait for the fatal shot.


    But instead of pain, a soft warmth wraps around my chest. Eve buries her head in my shoulders and sniffs. ¡°This is why I love you. You always know my faults.¡±


    I put my arms around her. Maybe she could still be a good queen if I steer her in the right direction.


    It takes another high-pitched wail for her to finally calm down. This time, the noise is seemingly on top of us and knocks us to our feet. Yet it¡¯s simply a figment of the imagination, as nothing but the grey snow-laden clouds hang above.


    Eve pulls herself up. ¡°We should head back. I need to undo my ridiculous command before someone hurts themselves.¡±


    I have to agree.


    ¡°But before we do, I must ask you one thing. You saved the blasphemer before, and you spoke low of the Angels. Why? They created us, so why do you not honor them?¡±


    The tiger has finally cornered the kitten. I can try and submit to it, or I can strike back. But I¡¯ve lied to her for far too long to make her happy. She needs to know the truth.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe they did. They¡¯re not divine figures. They are humans with white wings. I know saying this is a warrant for my death, but I don¡¯t believe in them, and my parents don¡¯t either. My grandparents even fought for freedom from them, but your mother killed them.¡±


    Eve doesn¡¯t seem angry. Rather, she seems saddened by my revelation. ¡°Yes, such a statement is reason enough to order an execution. Or, as it shall be, was.¡± She clenches her fist. ¡°I declare that from this day on, nobody shall be executed for their religion.¡±


    I throw my arms around her. ¡°So you¡¯re all right with me believing what I do?¡±


    ¡°No. I will ensure you spend your training hours in the church learning the truth. Not believing in Angels is a sin unto itself.¡±


    And a girl loving a girl is a sin as well. But this isn¡¯t the time or place for such a statement. I can work on changing her a little bit at a time.


    Our faces are perilously close to one another. Eve¡¯s eyes sparkle and pull me in. If I need to continuously remind myself this girlfriend thing is an act, is it really an act anymore?


    ¡°Do you mind?¡± she asks.


    I let my lips do the talking. Our lips meet, and for just a moment, there is nothing else that matters in the world. She has me, and I have her. Our bodies are one, sharing our warmth and our love.


    But another sort of warm comes from our side, this time much more sinister and unnatural. I give Eve a final squeeze before we break our kiss to see what¡¯s going on. But nothing could have prepared me for what is now before us.


    ¡°Wh-What is this?!¡± Eve shrieks.


    Fire licks high in the sky from the city between the trees, flittering through the various roughshod houses. Yet, this is no domestic fire, as the flames themselves are black and grey. The flames strike houses and instantly set them ablaze despite the heavy snowmelt on the rooftops.


    This fire isn¡¯t localized either. The entire kingdom as far as we can see is on fire.


    Black specks flitter around above the kingdom like flies above honey. They dive out of the sky to the streets below, and each time they do, they let out a soft, yet no less terrifying, shriek like the ones we heard earlier.


    As a girl, I had read about something like this happening. It had been in a book of fairy tales and myths my parents used to read to me to get me to sleep and teach me morals. This particular one had been written to teach me about the dangers of hubris.


    I don¡¯t have time to reason this out. Mom and Dad are in there! Fairy tale of not, this is reality right now. Denying it will get us nowhere. I need to get in there and make sure they get out all right. It seems Eve has the same sort of idea, as she¡¯s already running to the city ¨C her stupid blue ascension dress making it ever more difficult to run. Why couldn¡¯t she have worn something a little more comfortable today?


    I strap my bow and arrows on my back. If these specks really are who I think, then I¡¯m going to need them. My parents¡¯ lives may depend on them. I charge toward the city and my future.

 Evelyn III

    The heat of the fires warms my entire cold body ¨C the only soothing sensation in the entire mess. It rages out of control, not sparing a single building as far as the eye can see. Water pours off the blazing houses ¨C snowmelt to join the rivers flowing through the streets. My castle is no exception, with its great pillars engulfed in tongues of fire. A balcony I used to frequent collapses under its own weight and crashes to the ground.


    If the fire is an effect of the disaster, the black specks would be the cause. Except closer up, they could no longer be called black specks. They are humans, or possibly even Angels. It is hard to call them humans, for they have pairs of magnificent wings like the Angels. At the same time, Angels have beautiful feathery wings of white. While these wings are indeed still feathery, they are the darkest black.


    They circle around above. A woman runs down the street, screaming for her life. This is enough for one of these Black Wings to spot her. It dives after her, knocking her to the ground. Like a savage animal, it claws at her in an attempt to take her life.


    She holds her hands out, releasing a massive burst of water magic at the Black Wing. The water surrounds its body and freezes, rendering it nothing more than a statue. The woman pants to try and recover her energy, but it¡¯s only momentary relief. The ice dissipates around the Black Wing, seemingly being absorbed into the body.


    The woman screams as the Black Wing comes back to life. Her scream is short lived when it holds its own hand out, and shards of black ice fly out of it, piercing the woman¡¯s body like knives through a slab of meat. She involuntarily shudders before falling still.


    I try to find a survivor, but that woman seemingly is the only person around with a hint of life. Nobody can be inside the infernos of the houses. My only hope is they are somewhere else in the kingdom not subject to this disaster. Yet even all the way on the eastern side, I can see buildings burning next to the Lural mountains.


    Muriel pants beside me from her run. ¡°This is awful. To think the fairy tales are true¡­¡±


    ¡°What fairy tales?¡±


    She holds her bow at the ready. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to explain. But do not use magic for any reason, all right? Keep calm and they might not see us. They¡¯re pretty high up.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®do not use magic¡¯? You said my magic might prove useful one day. Is this not the type of situation you referred to?¡±


    She grips her bow. ¡°No. Do not use magic for any reason, or you will die.¡±


    I understand in that moment I am no longer leading Muriel along; I am following her. She has the power of knowledge over me, and my best chance of survival is to go along with her commands.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± I ask.


    ¡°For now, we¡¯ll need to find our parents. Your mom is the most important, since she¡¯ll know what to do.¡± She chokes on her words, doing her best to stay stoic. ¡°My parents are mere sentimental value.¡±


    We creep through the river of a street, staying as close to the houses as we dare. A collapsing roof reminds us to keep at least some distance from their black blazes.


    Corpses litter the streets in every direction. Some of the luckier ones simply lie dead. The unluckier ones have gaping wounds with crimson blood washing away from the snowmelt river. It does not take long to realize another difference. The ¡°luckier¡± ones all wear simple peasant¡¯s garb, the style of a Level Zero. The more brutally murdered ones are in tunics and gowns. The better the clothes, the higher their level, and then more brutal their body.


    The castle looms ahead.


    ¡°Look! Lights!¡± Muriel points at the castle¡¯s base.


    Fire cracks much like in the rest of the city. Yet this fire is a brilliant yellow and orange, not the black and grey rippling through the kingdom. It has to be magic. From its sheer brilliance, I know who is its caster.


    Muriel and I break into a run. As I suspect, my mother is the source of magic. Hundreds, if not thousands of Black Wings circle around her, diving in for the kill. She beats them back with fireballs, but they serve very little purpose. Other than the physical impact pushing them back a tiny bit, most of the magic seems to get absorbed into their bodies. It all seems so futile from a woman who only yesterday incinerated twenty Level Fours through powerful shadow magic with only a word.


    ¡°Mother!¡± I shout.


    She places her hand on her heart. ¡°Thank the Angels you are all right.¡±


    I run up to join her. I might not be able to provide much in the way of support, but perhaps I can hold them off enough to escape.


    Sheer horror spreads through her face. ¡°No! Do not come near me!¡± She stops with the fireballs and instead fires off a constant stream of fire which creates a type of physical barrier between use and the Black Wings.


    I say, ¡°So even you can get scared. Come on, we have to escape while we have a chance.¡±


    The strain from the sustained fire assault shows in her body as her arms and legs shake under the pressure. ¡°I did not mean them to stay away. I meant you. I am going to die, and I do not want your spirit to have to pass through the Gate of Heaven with me.¡±


    I grip on her free hand. ¡°I will not leave you. I can heal you while you fight, and we can escape.¡±


    ¡°Escape? Escape where? The gate is sealed, there is no pass through the mountains, and the forest¡ªthe forest might actually work.¡±


    Cracks form in her flame barrier. The Black Wings will break through at any moment.


    She grips my free hand even tighter. ¡°Do not try and join me beyond the Gate of Heaven. You have a long life to live still. Pass through the forest and find the elves on the other side.¡±


    ¡°The elves?¡±


    ¡°I do not have time to explain. Show them the emerald on your neck ¨C it has more power than you know. They shall know what to do.¡±


    The fire breaks. My mother squeezes my hand. ¡°I¡¯m out of magic for the day. Run.¡±


    Letting go of her and running is the hardest thing I have ever done. The Black Wings are too focused on my mother to notice me. They descend on her is a flurry of wings and darkness, tearing her limb from limb. Her screams only last a few seconds, so I know she did not suffer for long. I try and fight back the tears for a woman mere hours ago I had planned to poison to death.


    The Black Wings release a torrent of black fire around the massacre. They corrupt any magic they touch. It is in that moment I realize the city is on fire because of my mother¡¯s attempts to defend it.


    Muriel grabs my hand as soon as she can. ¡°What did she say?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°She said something about going through the forest and finding the elves.¡± The forest looms in the distance.


    ¡°Is that fairy tale true as well?¡± she asks.


    Even I have heard of a fairy tale of wise and cheery elves beyond the forest. My mother used to read me stories of weary adventurers passing through the forest, split from their hunting parties, and finding a vast city of elves in a city by a massive body of water.


    ¡°It is a fool¡¯s hope. My mother knew her time had come, and was praying beyond hope for my safety. No, I will not listen to her. We have to make it to the Gate of Heaven.¡±


    Muriel¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. The entire kingdom couldn¡¯t push that thing open, much less the two of us!¡±


    ¡°The Angels will save us. They know what is going on and will open it. They wish to see their children survive this curse I wrought on us all.¡± A Black Wing shrieks above, creating that same horrid sound we heard earlier when the castle had been in one piece. A wall crumbles from the castle, kicking up a white cloud of dust below.


    Muriel can only march forward. ¡°A fool¡¯s hope or another fool¡¯s hope. The forest or the gate. Both are going to be the deaths of us. But you should honor your mother. Go to the forest like she wanted. I¡¯ll follow you to the depths of it and we can starve to death together instead of getting murdered by these things. At least there we have a hope there might be another side, elves or not.¡±


    ¡°No. We are not going to die. We are going to find your parents, and then push on past the gate.¡±


    She lowers her guard. ¡°My parents? There is no way they survived this mess.¡± Even I can see her eyes glimmer. If she is not crying now, then she will not show her emotions, no matter what the situation.


    ¡°There is still a hope for them. If my mom is, or well, was alive, so could they. If you wish to head for the forest, so be it. I am going to press on.¡±


    Muriel sloshes her boots through the snowmelt river. ¡°You¡¯re such a thickheaded idiot.¡± Despite her words, she does not turn to leave the kingdom on her own. We pass through the streets and try to take the narrowest passages we can find. They may be more at danger from houses collapsing, but they are mostly hidden from view from the Black Wings soaring above. Every so often one would let out that horrible wailing sound, forcing us to cover our ears momentarily.


    Muriel crawls between the rubble like a cat, somehow knowing all the right places to twist and bend. She follows her nose and pushes through to the back end of the streets.


    Her old house, as expected, is in ruins. Corpses lie around it ¨C the remnants of her five brothers, her mother, and her father. She loses all control and dashes into the open with them. She collapses to her knees, grabbing her father¡¯s wrist. Tears pour out of her eyes, and for a moment, she is a baker¡¯s daughter again ¨C not a retainer for the princess.


    I kneel down beside her, checking over my shoulder for any sign of a Black Wing. We should be safe for a time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± is all I can say.


    She keeps her head down. ¡°I know I should be blaming you. Your arrogance attracted them, if the fairy tales are true. But somehow, I can¡¯t find it in me. Does that make me a bad person?¡±


    I take a hold of her hand, and along with it, her father¡¯s corpse¡¯s wrist. ¡°Wait a second.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not dead yet. He¡¯s still warm.¡±


    Muriel doesn¡¯t react. ¡°It is only a matter of time.¡±


    I pull out my staff. ¡°You forget. I am a Level Five, specializing in healing magic and light. I can bring him back.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it. These Black Wings are attracted to magic!¡±


    I wave her off. ¡°It will only take a moment.¡± Before she can get another word in, I call upon my inner reserves and redirect them into the man. It is only a matter of second before his pulse intensifies, and he breathes ever so slightly.


    ¡°Eve, stop,¡± warns Muriel.


    I am not going to listen to her. She is the one who told me every life is precious, so why would I keep her father as an exception.


    The man groans a bit, still unconscious. I can save him. I can salvage at least something out of this situation.


    ¡°Stop! Stop right now!¡± she shouts.


    I am so close. Only a little bit more and he shall be on his feet, joining us. Maybe I could do something for her family as well, although they seem to be much worse off than her father.


    A bowstring clangs, and something collapses to the ground beside me. This is enough to break my attention. Not even two feet away is one of those Black Wings with an arrow through its heart. Seeing one so up close and personal sends shivers up my spine. It is not creepy in the slightest. No, it is not a monster. It is a human, like Muriel and me, with a pair of black wings out of its back.


    Yet it does not behave as a human. For behind it are hundreds more of its kind, charging at us in sheer bloodlust. I give Muriel¡¯s father one last glance. He fades fast when my magic dissipates, soon returning to the precipice of death.


    Muriel grabs my wrist. ¡°It¡¯s too late for the forest now, so let¡¯s hope your ¡®Angels¡¯ really do open this gate.¡±


    We flee through the city with the Black Wings in close pursuit. They are so much faster than us. Their wings push them forward two steps for every one we take. It¡¯s not going to be long until they catch up.


    My mother stopped them with a magical barrier, even if it had been temporary. Light and shadow magic ¨C the only two non-offensive magics ¨C both have much stronger protective barriers available than the offensive types. So perhaps I can buy us a little time.


    I release Muriel¡¯s hand.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    I ignore her and hold up my staff. Light glistens off the quartered circle, flashing through the air. A wall of solid light forms in front of the Black Wings. They crash into it, and I can sense it failing from even the first crash. Yet I am able to thicken it, creating a barrier which would have matched the Gate of Heaven itself in terms of sheer physical strength.


    Yet this magic draws even more unwanted eyes. While maybe a hundred Black Wings had been following us, an even larger swarm in the distance changes direction, charging at us like a wolf smelling meat.


    Muriel grabs my hand again. ¡°Nice trick, but we have to go.¡±


    We race on to the Gate proper. The ruins of my ascension stage lie to our right ¨C consumed by the black corrupted flames of my mother.


    I had never been so close to the Gate before where I could actually touch its interlocking chains. The Angels have insisted on a special divine barrier around it. The guards never allowed anyone closer that three hundred feet, unless they were royalty. We never went much closer than that in the first place, and certainly never close enough to touch it.


    I shout inside. ¡°Please! Angels! This is Evelyn, Queen of Northern Aldridge. I am begging you to open the gate!¡±


    The gate remains shut ¨C its iron chains standing a stark reminder of our futility.


    ¡°Angels, please!¡± I beg.


    ¡°They cannot hear you. There are no ¡®Angels¡¯ on the other side,¡± says Muriel.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the time for your blasphemy. Angels! I need you!¡±


    She notches an arrow on her bowstring and fires it through the gate. It lands harmlessly in the ground, and nothing else happens. ¡°If there were ¡®Angels¡¯ on the other side, they¡¯d be rushing out, feeling threatened right now. I¡¯m not talking about their existence. They simply aren¡¯t on the other side standing guard. Nobody can open the gate for us.¡±


    A loud thundering sounds crashes through the sky. I spin in hopes of a miracle. But the thunder is no miracle. It is the sound of my barrier finally shattering under the strain on the Black Wings.


    The swarm blots out any light filtering through the snow-laden clouds, and devours any light in its path.


    I hold out my staff to make another barrier, but Muriel only place her hand on my shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s too late. There¡¯s no escape. The Gate is closed to us, as is the forest. Don¡¯t put it off any longer. I¡¯m not afraid to die, and neither should you. If what you believe is true, we¡¯ll be passing through this gate as spirits in a few minutes in any case.¡±


    It seems so surreal how an entire kingdom, or for that case, the entirety of humanity can crumble in a matter of hours. I am no longer a queen. I cannot rule, as I am the only one left.


    The Black Wings shriek as loud as ever, only a few flaps of their wings away from us. The will be on top of us, and that will be the end of it.


    I hold Muriel¡¯s hands. ¡°If this is the end of it, can we end it together?¡±


    She holds my hands even tighter. ¡°You know, I was thinking the same thing.¡±


    We lean together and let our lips embrace each other. I wrap my arms around her, and she around me, sharing in one last moment together. Even the wails of the Black Wings do nothing to pull us apart. I cannot see them, and I doubt she can either, as our eyes are closed in this last moment of passion.


    The flapping wings blow my hair all over the place. The light filtering through my eyelids darkens. Something grabs my arms and digs its sharp claws in deep enough to draw blood. From the way Evelyn squeezes my hand a little harder, I can only assume the same is happening to her. But we do not break our embrace for even a moment. The Black Wings are not worth it. They will strike us down in seconds, and we shall escape our bodies to be together for eternity in Aldridge.


    My chest feels warm. Or maybe not my chest so much as the pendant lying on it. Bright green light floods through my eyelids. The light only intensifies, soon forcing me to squeeze my eyes tighter in an attempt to reduce the pain.


    The Black Wings shriek louder than before. The pain on my arm subsides with their wailing. Something crumbles overhead and crashes around here. Metal snaps, and winds howl. Yet as soon as it starts, it stops. Darkness returns almost as strong as from before the light. Yet there are no more wings flapping, and no more wails. There is only silence as Muriel and I kiss each other in the uncertain world.

 Muriel III

    This is all her fault.


    My parents lie dead somewhere in the ruins of Northern Aldridge, along with everyone else in the kingdom who had to suffer from her arrogance. They did nothing wrong. They baked every day and gave their bread away to the less fortunate people in the slums, and had done so even before I attained permission to raid the royal pantry. They weren¡¯t the ones who decided to produce unneeded magical crystals. Yet the one who made that decision is alive, and they are dead.


    Never before have I felt so utterly repulsed from kissing this girl. The first few times were a little weird, of course. It seemed strange back then to be a girl kissing another girl when every couple around me had been heterosexual. I also felt a bit dirty to know I had no love for the girl, yet had to act as her girlfriend to get grain and yeast for my parents, and hence the Level Zeros in general.


    But I had never felt repulsed by the idea. I am kissing the direct cause of my parents¡¯ death. I am kissing the girl who destroyed a kingdom because she wanted to hear a fake ¡°Angel¡± tell her ¡°good job.¡± I am kissing the girl who probably doesn¡¯t even know what she did. And all because I want to distract her enough to not use magic.


    The strange green light dies, and we release each other¡¯s lips. I¡¯m not dead, so my strategy might have worked. I force my eyes open and see something I never dreamed possible.


    The Gate of Heaven lies in ruins. The indestructible Gate has been destroyed, along with a good portion of the wall on either side.


    A mile in any direction is a barren wasteland. No snow, no houses, no people or Black Wings. The homes and buildings closest to the Gate of Heaven no longer exist, without even rubble in their place. The snow, which has covered the ground my entire life, is gone and replaced by burned soil. It is likewise on the other side of the gate. However, on the Northern Aldridge side, there are houses beyond the radius, still burning with those horrible black flames, and Black Wings flying above, yet taking no heed to us. On the Aldridge side, there is nothing but more snow stretching in the miles beyond.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Eve is every bit as perplexed as me. Her attempts to make sense of the desolation surrounding us is as futile as my own. ¡°There was a green light and a scream, and then this. Is this what the world is like when our spirits pass through the gate to join the Angels?¡±


    Even now, she holds onto those stupid beliefs. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯m not dead yet. But come on, we can¡¯t just stand here. The Black Wings will notice us before long.¡±


    Eve places her hands on her hips. ¡°Who is the queen here? Who gives commands?¡±


    I could slap her, but that would only waste more time. ¡°Then what do you command, my queen?¡± Despite my best efforts to avoid sarcasm, I can¡¯t keep it out of my voice. Yet Eve doesn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°We need to move before the Black Wings see us.¡± She steps over the rubble of the Gate of Heaven ¨C the only thing not completely incinerated by that green light. It is only by pure luck the rubble didn¡¯t touch us.


    When I lift my leg, a sharp pain crosses my thigh. Maybe the rubble didn¡¯t touch Eve, but I suppose it grazed me. I have a nice gash across the exposed skin of my upper thigh.


    Eve notices my wince. ¡°That seems painful. Here, let me¡ª¡± She pulls out her staff.


    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± I cover up the gash with my hand. ¡°Those Black Wings are attracted to magic. We can heal this later, but we need to put some distance between ourselves and Northern Aldridge.¡±


    Eve lowers her staff, and my tension flees my body. For a moment I thought she¡¯d continue to charge forward like a tiger without any heed to the wills of others.


    We emerge on the Aldridge side of the Gate. Despite all the claims from the church of the air being somehow ¡°holy¡± such that one breath will cure all worries, I still fear the Black Wings behind us. Are they going to discover us somehow?


    Eve and I hike south. The desolated area turns to snow cover yet again, with our boots leaving a thick track behind us. We stay silent through the cold march, even as the snow kicks up again. Most of my body is covered with the thin white material, so the cold is at least bearable. Eve is still in her ascension outfit, so with her bare legs and exposed shoulders, she has no chance against the elements. Her best attempts to cover her shoulders do little to prevent the goosebumps forming.


    The cold bites the wound on my thigh, making it sting worse than before. It tempts me more and more to ask Eve if we can stop and have her heal it. But I¡¯m not sure if we¡¯ve put enough distance between ourselves and the Black Wings. For that matter, I¡¯m not even sure if we ever can.


    My walk turns into a limp, and my limp into a struggle to stay on my feet. I try to count to a hundred steps with the believe the next hundred will pull us out of this situation. Those ¡°Angels¡± had to come from somewhere, right? There had to be an end to the snowfield. Maybe there is an inn or a village somewhere nearby for those ¡°Angels¡± to stay at on their journeys north.


    My foot slips, and I collapse to the ground. The searing pain in my thigh lets me know I¡¯m not going to get back up again.


    Eve kneels down beside me. ¡°Look behind you,¡± she says.


    There is nothing behind us anymore. Northern Aldridge has faded beyond the horizon, and even the wall is gone. We are surrounded by snow in all directions, with only our footprints directing us north.


    Eve pulls down the golden lining of my sock to get a better view of the wound. ¡°It is deeper than I thought.¡± She holds her hand over my leg, and a deep yellow light forms from its palm.


    On one hand, I want to warn her against using magic, lest the Black Wings discover us again. On the other, I know if she doesn¡¯t, we will never continue on from here, and we will die in any case.


    Unlike my parents¡¯ favorite treatments of witch hazel and rubbing alcohol, healing magic doesn¡¯t sting. Rather, it feels as if something or somebody is giving the wound a gentle massage, mending it back as it used to be. The pain in my leg subsides, and the light from Eve¡¯s hand dims.


    Yet she continues to stare at the former wound.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    She runs her finger over my still tender thigh. ¡°There is a scab.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s normal. Wounds scab up and heal when the new skin is in place.¡± I hop to my feet, more than eager to put some more miles between ourselves and the Black Wings. ¡°It means your healing worked. Thank you.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Eve bites her lip. ¡°Level Five healing magic means I should be able to make it as if you never were injured. There should not even be a scab.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°A scab¡¯s no big deal. Better that than an open wound. Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Without the wound on my thigh, and with the extra body heat from our physical activity, the cold no longer seems as bad. With enough distance between us and the Wall, Eve finally asks the most pertinent question.


    ¡°Do you know what happened back there?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. There was this big green light, and something warm coming from your chest, but my eyes were closed.¡±


    Eve grips the emerald dangling from her necklace. ¡°I think this protected us somehow. I am not sure how, but it still feels warm. But I am not asking about the end. I am asking about the beginning. You seemed to know a bit about the Black Wings.¡±


    I step through the thickening snow. It is becoming harder to see the field. Night must be falling from the increasing darkness. ¡°It¡¯s only a story in a fairy tale, nothing more. I only had to go based on my memories of it.¡±


    ¡°Tell me the story. I would like to hear it.¡±


    She continues to plunge ahead, despite her blue lips and the snow in her hair. If the snow is so visible in her golden locks that I can see it, I can only imagine how poignant it must stand out in my black hair.


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember it word for word, but I¡¯ll give you the gist of it. Once upon a time, there was a great kingdom of Wingless.¡± Since this story refers to humans as ¡°Wingless¡± I have to assume this is a story given from the ¡°Angels.¡±


    ¡°The Wingless had built a great society from naught more than their own efforts, and everybody living in it prospered. From Level Five to Level Zero, there was not a single Wingless who wanted anything more than a partner in love and kids to which they could spread the joy of their lives.¡±


    If only Northern Aldridge could have been that kind of a place. My childhood memories of insatiable hunger and cold nights huddled in the same bed as my brothers strike back with resounding relevance.


    ¡°The Level Fours, however, wanted more. They desired for the power of the Queen. They desired to become Level Fives themselves. So they, along with the Level Threes, began working on an object of massive power. This object would not only store their magical energy, but produce and give it back to them redoubled. By creating a perpetual flow of magical energy, they would accumulate so much they would become Level Fives, according to their theory.¡±


    It¡¯s a bit of a fallacy in the first place. Magical energy does not determine the strength of one¡¯s powers ¨C only how much magic one can perform in one day. But I remind myself this is a fairy tale and continue.


    ¡°They succeeded in creating the artifact, much to the joy of the people. They became Level Fives, and soon staged a coup d¡¯¨¦tat to seize even more power. Those below them, instead of being able to use the object to create things of good instead were forced into slavery. Everything they did were for the benefits of the Level Fives, heeding to their beck and call. The Level Zeros were routinely massacred, and any child born who had no magical potential was killed on the spot.¡±


    In some ways, even Eve¡¯s mom wasn¡¯t as bad as the story had made them out to be.


    ¡°Yet they still desired more. They tried to make the object bigger and stronger with the hopes of one day becoming a Level Six. Should they have this power, they believed they could challenge God himself and become like the ¡®Angels.¡¯ Yet their arrogance would become their undoing. For when one slaughters more meat than they need, the wolves will come.


    ¡°From the mountains in the north came a vast horde of Black Wings. They do not need food and water like us. Sunlight is their water, which is why the sky always turns dark when they approach. And magic is their food. They normally can get enough from the magic in the air, but when there is such an abundant food source like that object of old, or like your attempts at creating so many crystals at once, they swarm in like flies to honey. And they spare no one.¡±


    I clench my fist as memories of the past day return. ¡°They massacred the kingdom. Not a single Level Five was spared from their wrath. The kingdom would have fallen to the same fate as Northern Aldridge, save for the actions of the queen¡¯s own son. He grabbed his sword and thrust it into the object at the cost of his own life. The object exploded, and the Black Wings were driven back to their mountains. The ¡®Angels¡¯ appeared soon after and congratulated the remaining people of the kingdom, telling them the Black Wings are nothing more than the representation of their arrogance and lust for power. By giving up what they treasure most dearly, they have overcome the trial. And together, they entered the kingdom of Aldridge to live forever in paradise.¡±


    My parents always skipped over the last part of the story and replaced it with a story of great rejoicing by the people. But I learned to read using that book, and discovered many religious aspects my parents had hid so as to keep me from believing in myths and fables.


    The snow seems to be lessening with every step we take. Perhaps we can find some place to sleep in the open and not freeze to death. Then again, the cold hasn¡¯t subsided in the slightest.


    Eve stays silent long after my tale. She looks down at the snowfield and presses forward. ¡°Arrogance?¡± she finally asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s only a fairy tale. You know how they try and put in morals into every tale.¡± The lecture on her arrogance can wait for another day. There are far more important things to deal with now.


    ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    Our saving grace comes in the form of a tree. It stands out so alone in the snowfield, we have to rub our eyes to make sure it is real. Yet it is undoubtedly real and dead ¨C a perfect source of firewood for the night. Eve clears out an area from snow as I break off a few branches. The fire catches with only a few sparks from my flint and steel, and before long we¡¯re huddled together basking in its soft glow.


    Eve leans her head against mine. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says.


    ¡°You have nothing to apologize about. You didn¡¯t know what would happen.¡± This cold hike had taken me out of my rage from earlier. Rather than thinking of the ways my parents could have survived had Eve acted different, I thought of how long they lived because of Eve¡¯s generosity. Eve may not realize it, but her simple act of allowing me freedom to take what I wished from the food pantry had given hundreds of people years upon years of life and freedom from starvation.


    The night is silent beyond the crackle of fire. That is why when something mews, I nearly have a heart attack.


    A brown cat tramples through the snow, pushing towards the fire. From the grey of its whiskers, its best days are long behind it, but its bright yellow eyes show no sign of giving in to father time any time soon. If it¡¯s made it through this harsh environment for this long, it¡¯ll make it another day.


    ¡°Come on.¡± I pat my lap. It doesn¡¯t hesitate to leap into it, spreading its warmth through my body. I scratch behind its ear, which makes it purr ever so softly.


    Eve watches bemusedly. ¡°I suppose we will have to pin it in place and shoot it with an arrow.¡±


    ¡°What? It¡¯s not harming anyone, so why would we do that?¡±


    She blinks. ¡°You mean you want to cook it alive?¡±


    ¡°Cook it?!¡±


    ¡°Well, of course. We have not had a bite to eat for almost a full day now. I do not know about you, but I am starving. Even a cat will do.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t know starving. Starving is eating raw flour mixed with water because you need to get something into your body. ¡°This cat is mine. I¡¯ll name it Holly and take care of it. You can find your own cat if you want to eat it.¡±


    Eve lifts her head up off my shoulder. ¡°I command you to cook it for dinner as your queen.¡±


    ¡°And I command you to leave it alone as your lover.¡± I pet the fur between its yellow eyes, which make it purr louder. If yellow eyes are the symbol of royalty in this world, does this mean this is a royal cat? No, cats don¡¯t care about things as silly as royalty and lineage. They only care about their next meal.


    Eve leans her head back on my shoulder, knowing she doesn¡¯t have the energy to fight me. I run my other hand through her hair to brush out the snow.


    ¡°I know hunger. I¡¯ve lived through it all my life. If we have to do something as barbaric as eating a cat, I¡¯ll tell you when it¡¯s time. But for now, tighten up your belt and press on. There has to be something more than this snowfield out there. Those ¡®Angels¡¯ came from somewhere.¡±


    Eve isn¡¯t listening anymore. She¡¯s fast asleep on my shoulder, taking peaceful breaths. I consider taking a watch, but nobody¡¯s going to come here. Even if they did, what would we do? There¡¯s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.


    Holly curls up in my lap to join Eve¡¯s slumber. It has a tag on its neck in the shape of a star. Maybe Eve wouldn¡¯t notice, but I understand what that star means.


    ¡°Did you really walk all the way here from Northern Aldridge?¡± It yawns as if to answer me.


    My eyes grow heavy and I lean my head against Eve¡¯s in that cold October night.

 Evelyn IV

    The wind picks up the following day. Our tree long behind us, Muriel and I continue our arduous trek through the snow. Water is not a problem. Any time either of us is thirsty, we grab a hunk of snow from the ground and allow it to melt in our mouths. But snow does nothing for our empty stomachs, and even less for our exposure to the elements.


    Every step I take makes me question Aldridge more. How can this be heaven? Heaven is the land of eternal sunshine and warmth, where there is no suffering and no sadness. Yet here we are, freezing to the bone, doing everything we can to survive.


    More than once I question my choice to come here. My mother told me to go through the forest. At least there we would have some sort of shelter, and with Muriel¡¯s bow and arrows, we could find food for as long as she retrieved her arrows.


    Then again, we do have food. It literally walked up to us last night in the form of a cat. But Muriel, the animal lover, decided she¡¯d rather have it perched on her shoulder than in our stomachs.


    ¡°Do you think there are any animal around here?¡± My stomach grumbles and reminds me of my appetite.


    Muriel grips her bow. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Best not think of it and press on. What¡¯ll come with come.¡±


    I grit my teeth and follow her footsteps. She does not understand my suggestion in the slightest. Perhaps the forest would not have been much different after all. We would still be as hungry as we are now, but instead of a cat perched on Muriel¡¯s shoulder, we would have an oxlark. I burst out in laughter when I think of that massive creature with it four feathery legs and bird-like head draped over Muriel¡¯s shoulder. The thing is probably twice as large as either of us.


    Yet the more I suffer, the more I realize this to be a test of my faith. If I give up my beliefs in Aldridge as heaven now, and the Angels as our true creators and lords, my faith could not have been so strong to begin with. They are watching over us with every step we take. They gave us the tree last night to keep us warm and alive, and they brought the cat to us to fill our bellies. If only Muriel, the non-believer, would not have gotten in the way.


    Is this their way to tell me to leave her? The church never approved of same-sex relationships. But at the same time, why would they have allowed us to make it this far together, sparing the two of us instead of splitting us up?


    As I ponder these things, the landscape shifts. Instead of remaining a flat expanse, it begins to descend, turning into a gradual hill. The tree from last night proves to not be the only tree in Aldridge, as more trees like it dot the landscape. They are nothing like the evergreen trees of the Beriac forest, but rather are structures with dead leaves instead of needles. If nothing else, they provide us some protection against the winds when we get close.


    Muriel and I break by one, facing to the north. At least, we can only pray such a direction is north. We intentionally slept with our heads pointed away from our footsteps the night before in hopes it would give us a sense of direction. But if our footsteps have been curving instead of staying straight as we hoped, we may not be heading south in the first place.


    Muriel picks up a clump of snow and holds it to her cat to lick.


    ¡°Do you think this snowfield ever ends?¡± I ask.


    She takes another clump of snow for herself. ¡°I don¡¯t know. No book ever mentioned anything factual about Aldridge. All I know is it¡¯s a large area where the dead are supposed to live in paradise with their creators. This snowfield may continue all the way to the City of Angels. A human might not be able to traverse it.¡±


    The City of Angels. Is that our goal? I suppose there is no other goal we can have at this point. There is no turning back. We have to continue south as far as we can, hoping one day to come to the King of the Angels and ask for his assistance. My mother says my emerald has more to it than I imagine. If the elves understand it, an Angel naturally would know even more.


    The cat, Holly, purrs when Muriel scratches between its eyes. Yet this is an idle activity, for her attention is really to the north.


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡±


    She breaks out of her trance. ¡°Besides our situation, nothing really. It¡¯s just it seems a bit darker to the north than the south.¡±


    ¡°That is not really a surprise. It is getting late in the day.¡± My stomach growls to remind me it is also getting late on us. Muriel refastens her belt a little tighter as if in response.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope that¡¯s all it is. Don¡¯t use your magic in any case. If those are Black Wings, I don¡¯t want to attract them any more than we already have.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Despite my growing despair, our situation really is improving with every mile we put behind us. The trees grow more common, and before long, a forest grows on our right. Beyond that, the snow seems a bit looser under our feet, as if it is somehow melting. In this cold, I am not sure how such a thing is possible, but it is happening nonetheless.


    Our true saving grace comes as the last rays of sunshine break through the clouds in the horizon. While giving only a few minutes of daylight, they reveal a cluster of structures resembling houses with a small wall surrounding them. Muriel and I take one look at each other before bursting into a sprint to the first sign of life in two days.


    My faith has been answered. By holding true, we have found a new world to live in. There will be Angels waiting to welcome us with open arms, leading us to a new home where Muriel can meet her parents again, and I can reestablish my kingdom. I will never be separated from Muriel¡¯s breads again.


    The village, despite its sturdy wall foundation, is unguarded. There are no men patrolling the tops of the walls, nor at the gate. The gate itself is a battered mess, lying rusted on the ground. In this snow, we have no way of determining if it had fallen days, months, or even years ago.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Muriel holds her hands out to project her voice. ¡°Is anyone here?¡±


    There is no response. The streets are steeped in snow and grime. Nobody has cleaned them for ages by the looks of it.


    I knock on a door in hopes of response, but it echoes hollowly back at me.


    ¡°So much for a gift from heaven,¡± I mutter. The next house is much of the same. The next house can¡¯t survive our knock, and the door collapses inwards. Holly jumps off Muriel¡¯s shoulder and darts inside.


    ¡°Come back here!¡± She chases the cat to the dark. But dark isn¡¯t a problem for me. I hold out my staff and concentrate my magical energy into it, but something seems to block it. I only manage to get a tiny glow out, but it¡¯s enough to illuminate the room.


    When the light brightens the room, it makes me wish I didn¡¯t have any magic in the first place. Red blood stains the walls, with some even trying to write something out in words no longer legible. There are no bodies, but there is no question as to the fate of the people who once lived here.


    Muriel picks up Holly in the corner. ¡°I thought I told you not to use ma¡ª¡±


    She drops her bow with a clang when she turns around to the horrors of the room.


    ¡°Let¡¯s find another place,¡± I say.


    She does not protest for a second.


    House after house suffer the same fate.


    Muriel plops on the ground outside a house. ¡°I don¡¯t want to sleep where somebody died. The street¡¯s perfectly fine.¡±


    My stomach grumbles again. ¡°Maybe there is some food in one of these houses.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t steal from the dead! They worked hard for what they got, and you have to respect their memory.¡±


    I lose it. ¡°You won¡¯t let me eat that cat, you won¡¯t let me search those houses, and you don¡¯t understand my struggle! I¡¯m not used to eating nothing!¡±


    Muriel giggles.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    She leans back. ¡°You finally abandoning your ¡®noble speak.¡¯ It¡¯s much nicer to hear you talk like one of us.¡±


    I cover my mouth. I cannot speak like a commoner. I am a princess. ¡°My apologies. But I am hungry and frustrated.¡±


    Muriel¡¯s smirk disappears. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll have to do something about that. At least it¡¯ll stop your complaining.¡± She notches her bow and takes aim right at me. My heart pounds. Is she going to end me here? Has our love become nothing more than a farce? Yet, despite my fear, I cannot move my lips. I am petrified.


    She looses the arrow, but it does not strike me. It flies past my ear and strikes something behind which gives a shriek and collapses.


    She picks the creature off the ground ¨C some kind of bird with sharp talons and a beak so sharp it is a miracle it does not slice Muriel¡¯s hands open.


    ¡°Dinner,¡± she says.


    The presence of warm food in our bellies feels better than anything I ever imagined. The bird is a little fatty, and without seasonings has little to no taste, but it at least gives us something to continue on with.


    Muriel picks the last bits of her leg off its bone. ¡°I kind of expected carrion fowl to show up eventually. It doesn¡¯t matter what the climate, they¡¯ll always appear for a meal. I only have to wonder if they had come here for the people in the houses or us.¡±


    ¡°But there is nobody in the houses.¡±


    Muriel places her hand on one of the steps leading up to the house. ¡°Indeed. So they must¡¯ve been for us. But do you understand yet? Aldridge isn¡¯t heaven. Heaven doesn¡¯t have towns like this.¡±


    ¡°This is a test, nothing more. The Angels are testing us to see if we keep out faith through their trials.¡±


    She heaves a sigh. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless. Whatever, I won¡¯t try and convince you now. But I do want to survive, so we have to come up with a plan. We can¡¯t live here forever.¡±


    The cold wind whips around and stabs my bare skin like knives. ¡°It would be nice to have some warmer clothes.¡±


    ¡°I have to agree. But there are things you don¡¯t do, and that includes stealing from the dead. We¡¯re going to be warm enough for the night, and I think it¡¯s going to get warmer as we get further south.¡±


    Such a concept seems so foreign after a lifetime of cold and snow in Northern Aldridge. But if Aldridge is supposed to be a warm paradise, and the City of Angels is its center, then it must gradually change the further we go. I had never lived in a world where people could walk around outside in comfort.


    ¡°Then what do you suggest?¡± I ask.


    ¡°It¡¯s getting darker to the north, so the Black Wings are probably on our tails. We¡¯re way too far from home to still see their traces if they weren¡¯t. We¡¯ll need to get somewhere we can hide from them instead of this open snowfield. I¡¯d suggest that forest.¡±


    The forest looms maybe two miles beyond the city.


    ¡°It seems dark.¡±


    Muriel throws the remains of the bird in the fire, which fills the air with its sweet aroma. It seems a waste, but with neither of us able to eat another bite and no way of carrying it, we do not have any other option.


    ¡°That¡¯ll help keep the Black Wings away. They drink sunlight like water, so a forest is probably a less than optimal place.¡±


    I suppose she¡¯s right. I throw my last bone in the fire, which makes our shadows dance on the walls. I lie on the ground. ¡°We should get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us.¡±


    Muriel agrees and lies next to me, with her cat curling up by her hair. With the forest to our side, we no longer stood the risk of losing our direction.

 Noelle I

    <h1>Noelle I</h1>


    I pick up a hunk of metal off the ground. ¡°Forget this crap.¡± Too old, too rusted, too heavy, and overall useless. Won¡¯t fetch me half a mark. The village of Jalis had been razed well over two weeks ago, so it¡¯s a surprise I even found the golden ring now tightly tucked in my satchel.


    The moon doesn¡¯t provide as much light as it did yesterday, and it¡¯d fade every day hereafter. But something doesn¡¯t seem right. It seems even darker than usual, like some sort of tendril is crawling up to it and blocking out its useful glow.


    The next house is no better than the last. I need to reconsider scavenging days. Assassinations bring in less money than a good scavenge, there¡¯s no doubt about that. But I could be out taking justice on some damned White Wing right now and earning a good hundred marks instead of finding a fifty mark ring and that¡¯s the end of my haul. I kick at a rock and continue my work, knowing the night isn¡¯t even half done. Maybe I can get lucky one more time and break even.


    I dart my eyes around, hoping for the definitive glimmer of gold or silver. Something sparkles between two houses so close together, they almost touch.


    The sparkle is a true haul. It¡¯s a bracelet which seemingly is made of pure gold ¨C the type the mayor¡¯s wife might have worn before the city suffered its fate. If I can get a hold of it, it¡¯s at least 200 marks in my name. Madame Rosa might even give me more than its worth in gold thanks to its fine craftmanship. I stand sideways against the first house and straddle between them to get deeper inside.


    Or so I wish. My boobs press against the second house, informing me yet again how my body is not designed to fit in these small places anymore. Curse my luck, and curse my age. Three years ago I¡¯d fit in any nook or cranny you could think of, blessed with the wonders of being short and thin. Yet fate couldn¡¯t bless me and keep me small, giving me these massive lumps on my chest. Madame Rosa says they¡¯ll lure men in for easier assassinations. I say they¡¯ll keep me from scavenging.


    With no other option, I break off a board from the nearest house. Ah, crap! The damned board scratched me! I hold my hand over the blood creeping on my brown skin, putting direct pressure on it. I¡¯ll have to wrap it later and hope it doesn¡¯t scar. Madame Rosa is right about the importance of keeping my body attractive, since half of an assassination is luring in the target. That¡¯s why I still deal with this long silver hair down my back, even if it does nothing but get in the way usually.


    I reach out with the board to the bracelet. It¡¯s long enough, but it¡¯s hardly thin enough to wrap around and pull. It¡¯ll have to do as is. I nudge the bracelet maybe a couple of inches closer before trying again.


    A cold breeze kicks up yet again. Why couldn¡¯t the White Wings raze this in July? Granted, the north is never warm, but it¡¯d be at least comfortable at night. I stick my bare left arm deeper inside the narrow alley and wrap my dirty fingers around the bracelet. A success no matter how I slice it.


    Maybe I¡¯ll end it here. I¡¯ve quintupled my profits, and this cold is really getting to me. If I want to do anything more, I¡¯ll buy another animal pelt and make a sleeve out of it. Hopefully it¡¯ll be a black bear again to complete this outfit. Its fur keeps out most of the cold, but it¡¯s pretty damn expensive. Hence why my left arm is still bare.


    I grip the crystal in my bag. This is the real profit maker. It¡¯s not too hard to steal, but it does mean going directly against a White Wing. Conk them out for a bit, grab a crystal out of the cart, and flee, and you¡¯ll make an easy 600 marks. The Wingless will pay almost anything to use magic, even if one of these will only grant them three uses.


    My ears pick up. At first I think it¡¯s only a mew of a cat. Poor thing¡¯ll die in the new week when its food supply runs out. But above the cat¡¯s meow is a pair of voices ¨C women by the sound of it ¨C laughing and joking around. Who would ever be in this ruin? There should be no survivors, with all Wingless either being killed or taken to the City of Angels for further judgment. But scavengers like me don¡¯t want to be seen or heard. Even a novice knows to conceal their voice.


    Not only that, but these idiots have a fire going. That means they have no fear of detection.


    I creep closer to get a better examination. Unfortunately, this gives me more questions than answers. One of them has wavy shoulder-length black hair and carries a rather large bow. She seems like a normal Wingless, but her clothes seem rather out of place for the north. They cover her body, yet they seem so thin it¡¯s a miracle she hasn¡¯t frozen to death yet.


    The other girl is my real confusion. She¡¯s a Wingless, yet she has bright yellow hair like she¡¯s White Wing royalty. They must be renegades, since anybody born blonde in this kingdom is forced to dye their hair a different color.


    Yet even as a renegade, she¡¯s weird. She¡¯s wearing some expensive clothes made out of a blue silk, but they hardly cover her body. Her shoulders are bare to the world, as are her legs save her miniskirt and boots. She could easily sell her outfit for a much warmer, but admittedly less stylish one and have a lot left over.


    She turns her head, and her golden eyes shine against the moonlight. How can she have golden eyes? Golden hair is a natural trait, but only royalty is born with golden eyes.


    There are two options. First, she might obtaining them artificially, which is a crime against the state. My White Wing contact would pay me a good hundred-fifty marks for her head. The second option is unforgiveable, and I must kill her no matter the cost.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I grip Fire in my left hand, and Ice in my right ¨C my twin daggers. They are the only things left from my mother. She had the foresight to leave them in Madame Rosa¡¯s caring hands before the White Wings found her and took her away. Sometimes I worry I¡¯ve forgotten which dagger is which, but their distinctive feels remind me of their identity.


    Their names are ironic, to say the least. Fire is cold to the touch and a little longer than the warm Ice. Madame Rosa explained to me once long before of their origin, and how they are named for their reforging methods. For only fire can melt ice, and only ice can squelch fire.


    I call upon my inner reserves of magic. I know I can¡¯t cast my shadow magic here, much less anywhere else in Aldridge. But by calling upon them, they somewhat conceal my presence. It¡¯s a much better skill to have than say fire mages, who only make their skin warmer in the attempt.


    I rub the magic crystal again. If things get dicey, I¡¯ll use it and get away.


    They fail to notice me as I tiptoe behind them. From their conversation, it seems the black-haired girl is named Muriel, and the blonde is named Evelyn. Those aren¡¯t names from around here, and certainly aren¡¯t from my birth home in Avignone. Who are these girls?


    If I¡¯m curious enough, I can ask the other girl. She¡¯s not worth the effort to kill. I¡¯d maybe get twenty marks for her bow and five for her clothes. Her information is worth much more.


    I¡¯m within striking distance. I lift my dagger high in the air, perfectly in line with the neck. If I thrust this in the right spot she¡¯ll die instantly.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you.¡±


    Muriel has notched an arrow and has it aimed straight at my throat. From the way she holds the bow string and takes careful aim, I know there is no way she¡¯ll miss. If I drop my dagger, I will have an arrow through my heart.


    Evelyn rolls away from me and gets back on her feet. There goes my opportunity. If not for that bitch with her bow and arrow, she¡¯d be dead at my feet now, a natural profit.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I demand.


    Muriel doesn¡¯t lower her bow. ¡°I should be asking the same thing. You¡¯re the one who stalked up to us with a knife.¡±


    ¡°Are you a Level Four from the kingdom?¡± asks Evelyn.


    I scoff. ¡°Kingdom? What kingdom? You mean the kingdom of the Yellow Herring Inn? Give me a break.¡±


    ¡°I do not know of a Yellow Herring Inn. That means you are a liar.¡±


    Muriel stretches the arrow back a little more. To hold the bow at the ready for so long, she must have well trained arms. ¡°I¡¯ll give you ten seconds to give me your name and purpose.¡±


    I hate wasting two hundred marks, but my life is far more important than this. ¡°Try me.¡± I grip the magic crystal and feel its power flow through me. The gates of magic, blocked by a wall, flood open. A curtain of darkness blankets the air in front of me so thick it would suffocate you should you try and cross it.


    I don¡¯t waste time admiring it and flee. The barrier should stay up for a good hour, which should give me a good lead on them. I¡¯ll have to forget Evelyn¡¯s head and take my rewards while I still can.


    Something wraps around my ankle. I crash to the ground and my daggers fly with me, clanging on the hard soil of the road. How can I be so stupid to get tangled up in a house plant?


    Yet when I reach down to loosen my leg, it is no plant there. Rather it is a rope made entirely out of light, wrapping around my ankle.


    ¡°Impossible!¡± I shout. But it¡¯s too late as hundreds of other ropes shoot through my barrier and grab my body.


    My barrier shudders from the light piercing it, and then shatters like glass. Muriel retrains her bow on me while Evelyn casts yet another shining rope out from her staff. Even with all the problems the wall presents, how can she overcome my barrier? That¡¯s Level Four magic. Nothing should pierce through that.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be a Level Five. It¡¯s a myth.¡± I struggle against my bonds, but there¡¯s no give in them. They form an intricate web around my body, locking every limb in place. The more I struggle, the tighter they get.


    Evelyn releases the ropes from her staff ¨C but not my body. ¡°Sure I can. I am the Princess, now the Queen of Northern Aldridge. We are Level Fives by birth.¡±


    Northern Aldridge? ¡°How did you get through the gate?¡±


    Muriel leans down to me. ¡°If you¡¯re asking that, you¡¯re not from Northern Aldridge yourself, are you? Who are you, and where did you come from?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to answer anything you ask.¡±


    Evelyn motions with her hand, and the bindings squeeze against my body. I can¡¯t breathe!


    Nothing good is going to come out of being conflictive. I can answer what they want and get what I want in return. ¡°My name is Noelle. I come from the Inn a little south from here, but my birthplace is Avignone, south of the Wall.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we south of the Wall already?¡±


    They really must be from Northern Aldridge. The pieces of the puzzle piece themselves together. But I¡¯ve seen the Gate of Heaven in person. Nobody can cross that Gate without the White Wings¡¯ permission.


    Let¡¯s give them some useless crap for information, and then maybe they¡¯ll give me what I want. ¡°The wall surrounds Aldridge on three sides. You must¡¯ve cross the northern wall. I¡¯m from south of the southern wall. You probably noticed my skin color already.¡±


    I hold up my arm so they can see its color. It¡¯s a bit of lie in the first place. Yes, the people of Avignone have darker skin and silver hair like me. But the people of Entirin to the southwest of Avignone are pale as the moon¡¯s glow. But they don¡¯t need to know anything more than associating the south with darker skin.


    Muriel raises an eyebrow at my response. ¡°Why did you attack Eve?¡±


    I could always tell her I wanted to sell off her emerald, but this girl seems to know my lies too well. I might as well tell her the truth. Maybe I could get her to join my side and still turn a profit. ¡°Evelyn has golden eyes.¡±


    Evelyn slams the butt of her staff on the ground. She has a right to be angry for only being targeted for her eye color. I can¡¯t blame her.


    ¡°My name is Eve! Do not call my ¡®Evelyn¡¯ like my mother. She is dead already.¡±


    Muriel¡¯s grip on her bow wavers a bit at those words, but Evelyn, or I suppose Eve, stays firm.


    Muriel steadies herself. ¡°What do her eyes have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Yellow means royalty. So she¡¯s either a Wingless who is trying to emulate the White Wing royals, or she¡¯s the direct descendant of the cursed Queen Silvia and must die for her ancestor¡¯s sins.¡±


    Eve blinks. ¡°Queen Silvia? The first queen of Northern Aldridge? What does she have to do with anything?¡±


    More and more I¡¯m understanding who this girl is. ¡°She¡¯s the one who gave the Wall its power. She¡¯s the reason why we can¡¯t use magic in Aldridge. She¡¯s the reason why the Wingless in here are cursed to either live a life of slavery, or live as bandits.¡±

 Muriel IV

    <h1>Muriel IV</h1>


    I hated waking up early this morning after such a weary day. But given the strange girl tied up in front of us, it was a lucky choice. If Eve and I had been asleep, she¡¯d be dead for something as stupid as her eye color, and I¡¯d be either dead or alone in this unfamiliar town and unfamiliar world.


    The girl, Noelle, has stopped struggling against her bindings. From my experiences of Eve tying me up to practice her magic, I know she¡¯s only making the situation worse for her. If there is one thing light magic is good for besides healing and shielding, it¡¯s binding.


    Eve stands aghast. ¡°What do you mean, the reason we cannot use magic? You and I both used magic right now.¡±


    Noelle¡¯s sky-blue eyes seem to shine even in the darkness of the early morning. She¡¯d be a rather pretty, if not exotic, girl if she weren¡¯t trying to kill us. ¡°If you go in my pouch, you should find a magic crystal. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s familiar to you ¨C you ship them out monthly. Each one gives me three uses of magic. I was going to sell it for 600 marks, but you forced me to cut its value by a third.¡±


    Eve pulls open the pouch lying on the ground and picks out a familiar hexagonal prism coming to points at the end. ¡°These are supposed to be with the Angels. Why do you have them?¡±


    ¡°Angels?¡± asks Noelle.


    Eve drops the crystal in the bag. ¡°You live in Avignone and do not know who the Angels are? The people with white wings who created us and grant us every joy in our life?¡±


    Noelle stares blankly at Eve for a second. As if a lightbulb clicks on in her head, she bursts out laughing so loud, I swear the Black Wings in Northern Aldridge can hear her.


    ¡°Angels? Them? Are you kidding me? They¡¯re nothing more than us save their white wings and increased physical strength. No, if anything, we should be ruling them. And we did until your ancestor came along with her stupid wall. We had magic, they did not. But once she built her wall, we both had nothing, and they dominated us.¡±


    Eve drops her staff. ¡°You take that blasphemy back! You are lying!¡±


    Noelle smirks. ¡°No can do. The White Wings, or ¡®Angels¡¯ as you refer to them, are nothing more than a human with a deformity on their backs. Why do you think they call us ¡®Wingless¡¯? It¡¯s because wings are the only things of importance in their mind.¡±


    Eve reaches down for her staff. ¡°I have two people to convert to the one true path in that case.¡± Will nothing ever shake her stubborn faith? Noelle¡¯s obviously lived in Aldridge for a long time, so she¡¯d know better than anyone who the ¡°Angels,¡± or I suppose it¡¯d be better to call them ¡°White Wings,¡± are.


    Noelle twists her wrist around, still searching for a weakness in the ropes. ¡°I¡¯ve answered your questions, so how about you answer some of mine. How did you get through the Gate of Heaven if you¡¯re really from Northern Aldridge?¡±


    Eve grabs the emerald lying on her breast. ¡°We really do not know. We were ambushed by Black Wings, so we wanted to share one last kiss by the gate together, and then there was this big green light. Next thing we knew the gate lay in ruins around us, and devastation surrounded us a mile in any direction.¡±


    ¡°The Gate is gone?!¡± Noelle frantically struggles against her ropes. ¡°Get this crap off me! I gotta get there before the magic in the wall repairs it! Let go of me!¡±


    She¡¯s like a horse with a thorn in its leg ¨C thrashing and bucking uncontrollably. There¡¯s a certain madness overtaking her. This isn¡¯t just an extreme reaction to get loose. She really wants to go north.


    I squat down to get at eye level with her. ¡°Noelle, our homes were overrun with Black Wings. You¡¯d find nothing but rubble and ruin, and possibly get killed by Black Wings yourself.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about your stupid kingdom! I need to cross the mountains and get to Eastgard! My mom¡¯s waiting for me!¡±


    Eve and I look at each other, but we¡¯re as confused as the other. ¡°Eastgard?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the prison to the east of your kingdom by the sea. The White Wings took my mom there, and I got to get her back! I was hoping to bribe some White Wings to open the Gate of Heaven for me so I could cross the mountains and reunite with her, but if it¡¯s destroyed, I can go now! Untie me!¡±


    Even if this prison exists, this girl is blinded by her love. Her mom wouldn¡¯t be unguarded, and she¡¯d wind up a prisoner herself by all accounts. Yet she¡¯d charge in recklessly to save her, thinking she¡¯d be some hero. ¡°You can¡¯t cross the Lural mountains. They¡¯re nothing more than a cliff as far as Northern Aldridge is concerned. Unless you have wings, you¡¯d be better off tunneling your way through them.¡±


    ¡°How would you know?¡±


    I give her a soft smile. ¡°I¡¯ve lived there my entire life. I know my own country a little better than you, sweetie.¡±


    She struggles for a bit more until the weight of my words hit her. The struggle of her thrashing and the pain of the ropes must¡¯ve gotten to her, since she collapses exhausted on the ground.


    ¡°Do you want to make a deal?¡± she asks.


    ¡°A deal?¡±


    The moon lights her face a silvery hue. ¡°You two obviously don¡¯t know where you¡¯re going. You¡¯re lucky to have made it this far, and you¡¯ll be lucky to survive another two days at the rate you¡¯re going. You need a guide, and I¡¯ll be your guide for whatever your destination. In return, when we reach your destination, you¡¯ll help me reach Eastgard. I don¡¯t know why, but I feel like you two are the answer I¡¯ve been seeking for all these years.¡±


    Eve shrugs. ¡°The Angels will guide us even without you.¡±


    Noelle struggles again, but I push her back down.


    ¡°What Eve means to say is, we¡¯ll get you to the ¡®Angels¡¯ so they can show you the true path. But we need some help getting there. Right, Eve?¡±


    She shrugs again. ¡°However you want to put it.¡±


    She waves her hand, and Noelle¡¯s bindings burst apart. Noelle massages her sore wrists and stretches her neck. The ropes really bit into her and created some nice red marks. But she doesn¡¯t make for her knives or crystal. I grab the knives before she can realize they¡¯re missing, and Eve pockets the crystal.


    ¡°Give those back!¡± she shouts.


    I fit them in my belt. One is surprisingly cold while the other it rather warm. Bit surprising, but weapons usually aren¡¯t what they appear. ¡°Guides don¡¯t need weapons. Especially guides who tried to kill us not even an hour ago. You¡¯ll get them back when we reach our destination.¡±


    Noelle bites her lip. ¡°And where might that destination be?¡±


    Eve slips the crystal in the only pocket available inside her dress. ¡°The City of Angels.¡±


    Noelle takes a step back. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Why would you ever want to go there?¡±


    She lifts up the emerald on her neck. ¡°My mother told me to find the elves to get the meaning of this. But she is a fool ¨C there is no other side of the Beriac forest. It is a fairy tale. So we are seeking the Angels to find the meaning instead.¡±


    Noelle hesitates for a second. ¡°I can only take you as far as the first sight of it. The White Wings would arrest me the moment the see me. Is that all right?¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Rogues don¡¯t exactly live the cleanest of lives, so I can understand her qualm. ¡°Deal.¡±


    We leave the ruined city as a party of three. I glance over my shoulder. The sky is even darker. It might be my imagination, but I can almost make out the dark wings beating against the sky, sucking in all good ¨C even light. With Eve¡¯s mass release of power back there, I knew we¡¯d be detected. It¡¯s not like she had any other choice with a girl aiming at our deaths, but sometimes we have to exchange one danger for another.


    ¡°How far is it to the City of Angels?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Probably about thirty days walk. It¡¯s a distance.¡±


    Eve freezes in place. ¡°Thirty more days in this cold? Are you kidding me?¡±


    Noelle grips on her one intact sleeve. ¡°It¡¯s not like this all the way south. The northern snowfields should be behind us tomorrow afternoon. Now, it is autumn, so don¡¯t expect warm sunny days, but it¡¯ll be better than here. Especially if you get some better clothes.¡±


    The cold wind bites through the thin fabric of my uniform. Something like Noelle¡¯s leathers would be a lot better than this. ¡°Where? And how?¡±


    ¡°I told you I¡¯m from the Yellow Herring Inn. It¡¯s not far from here. With me as your guide, I¡¯d say we¡¯ll make it by nightfall. It¡¯s a bit out of the way, but it¡¯ll beat sleeping outside.¡±


    As she said, the ground cover changes with ever mile. Little patches of green peek through the snow cover, and every so often I catch sight of a purple or blue flower poking its head through. But this isn¡¯t all good, as instead of a flat snowy path, we now have to deal with rocks jutting through the white and blocking our route.


    ¡°I never thought I¡¯d live to see the day,¡± I say mostly to myself.


    ¡°See what?¡± Noelle keeps her rapid walking pace despite the rougher terrain.


    ¡°My entire life I¡¯ve lived in snow. If we wanted to see the solid ground below, we¡¯d have to shovel or otherwise push the snow aside. I knew it¡¯d melt further south, but I thought I¡¯d be dead way before I ever walked on it.¡±


    Noelle grins. ¡°If what you said about the Black Wings on our tail is true, we¡¯re probably damned in any case.¡±


    The dark cloud behind us is nowhere as ominous as when we left the ruined city. ¡°They may¡¯ve lost our tail. If Eve doesn¡¯t attract them casting magic again, we might make it out of here after all.¡±


    Eve has stayed quiet almost the entire trip, brooding in her thoughts. I¡¯m not particularly interested in comforting her when we have many miles ahead of us still. That can wait for the inn itself.


    ¡°I meant to ask about her magic before. How did she cast it inside here?¡±


    Eve perks up. ¡°Why would I not? I told you before, I am a Level Five, and freshly rested. With full magic banks, nothing can stop me.¡±


    We approach a rather large rock. Noelle chooses to go around instead of going over. ¡°There is no such thing as magic in Aldridge. The Wall prevents any magical energy from penetrating through, like I told you. But if the Gate of Heaven is really true, some magic is probably rushing in, sort of like how water rushes into an empty container once the barrier between them is removed. But the walls repair themselves, so it¡¯s not like you can have unlimited magic use for your entire stay here. Your magic should already be weakening.¡±


    Eve stops following and plants her staff in the ground.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I ask.


    Her hand shakes on the staff. ¡°The scab¡­¡±


    Instinctually, I run my finger over my thigh. ¡°It¡¯s gone by now. There¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    ¡°No. There is no way to deny Noelle¡¯s statement. You should never have had a scab in the first place. She is right. My powers are weakening in here.¡±


    Is that all she¡¯s worried about? ¡°I lived without powers all my life. You can live without them for a month or two. Once we meet these ¡®Angels¡¯ of yours and they give us an answer, we¡¯ll be back in some new kingdom.¡±


    Noelle snickers. ¡°Sure you will. Come on, we¡¯ve been dawdling far too long. We¡¯ll never make it to the inn at this rate.¡±


    We reach the Yellow Herring Inn at the last light of day. True to its name, it has a wooden placard on the outside with a yellow bird adorning its boards. This is probably the only wooden piece of the entire inn. The two-story structure is made out of a sort of black stone interspersed with wet clay and leaves for insulation.


    Noelle holds her hands out. ¡°I¡¯ll need my knives now, if you please.¡±


    I take a step back. ¡°Why? And how can I trust you?¡±


    ¡°Because I haven¡¯t killed you yet.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be able to.¡± I grip a tighter hold of my bow in case I need to take action.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so keen to count on your luck, missy.¡± She curls her fingers to motion for the knife. ¡°If Evelyn, or Eve as she wants me to call her, can use her Light Magic because of the tear in the wall, I can use my Shadow Magic too. I haven¡¯t, because I need my knives back. So give them.¡±


    Eve points her staff at Noelle. ¡°Prove it. Show us some shadow magic right now.¡±


    I pull her staff back. ¡°Let¡¯s not. The Black Wings are still on our tails, you know.¡± I place the two knives in Noelle¡¯s hand. ¡°But don¡¯t think of trying anything. I¡¯m a very light sleeper when I need to be.¡±


    She runs her fingers along the steel. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it. Come on.¡±


    Noelle kicks the door open. Several tables are filled with guests, but they are nobody of importance. The real oddity is at the bar. A woman with dark blonde hair and tiny wings slams her fist on the table.


    ¡°Why is this 200 marks? It was 100 marks last time!¡±


    The innkeep waves the bottle in front of the woman¡¯s face. ¡°Because I have bill to pay. These things aren¡¯t cheap, you know. If you don¡¯t, you can return to prancing around town like a commoner.¡±


    The woman throws several coins on the table. ¡°Despicable. Maybe I¡¯ll have my dad raid this place like he raided those inhospitable heathens to the north.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think you can threaten me. I have ears all over the City of Angels. I know you begged him to spare the Wingless in Hestia, and he wouldn¡¯t listen. So why don¡¯t you stop playing princess and come to our side, Aria?¡±


    Aria? The resemblance is there, but the Aria we met at the Gate during Eve¡¯s ascension had been a little more graceful.


    The woman snatches the bottle out of the innkeep¡¯s hands. ¡°Thank you, and good day.¡± Sure enough, she is the same person we met at the Gate, more a girl than a woman. She storms out the inn, barely paying us more than half a second¡¯s glance.


    Noelle motions us to the bar, where we take our seats. The innkeep is a rather thick woman with brilliant red hair and green eyes. She¡¯s wearing a simple blue dress as I might see a servant wear, but given the aura around her, I know she owns this place.


    ¡°Pleasure to see you again, Madame Rosa. I brought some friends with me.¡±


    The innkeep, Madame Rosa, takes a long hard look at Noelle. ¡°And who are you?¡±


    Noelle lays her knives on the table. ¡°Proof enough?¡±


    Obviously it is. Madame Rosa gives an approving nod and pushes the weapons away. ¡°Find anything good in Hestia?¡±


    Noelle pulls out a bracelet and a ring out of her bag. ¡°Pure gold, finest quality. Five hundred marks at least.¡±


    Madame Rosa picks the ring up and turns it around for a better examination. ¡°Costume jewelry and gold-plated beads. Fifty marks.¡±


    ¡°Gold-plated? Give me a break. Gold-plated beads are not that light. And see the engraving on the ring? That¡¯s a real treasure from some royalty. Possibly a White Wing.¡±


    Madame Rosa slams the ring on the table. ¡°White Wing? Bah. You want to devalue it? But I suppose I can melt it down. One hundred.¡±


    ¡°Four hundred. I¡¯m not taking a mark less.¡±


    ¡°One fifty, final offer.¡±


    Despite their talks, they meet at two hundred fifty marks. From the satisfaction on both of their faces, this is the price they both wanted. I wonder why they chose to haggle like that instead of settling on the real price initially.


    Madame Rosa drapes the bracelet over her wrist and places the ring in her apron. ¡°And who are these harlots you brought along?¡±


    ¡°Harlot?!¡± Eve slams her fist on the bar. ¡°I will have you know I am the rightful Queen of Northern Aldridge and will be spoke to with respect!¡±


    Madame Rosa slaps Eve across the face. ¡°Keep your voice down, you moron. I can tell you¡¯re something special from your eyes. You¡¯re lucky Noelle took you in or I¡¯d have killed you over them by now already.¡±


    Eve rubs her face, but she at least has the sense not to protest.


    Noelle leans on the table. ¡°They¡¯re girls I met in Hestia, and we made a deal. I bring them to the City of Angels, they bring me to Eastgard. So we¡¯re going to need some supplies for the journey.¡±


    Madame Rosa narrows her eyes. ¡°You know what¡¯s going to happen, right? You¡¯ll get to the City of Angels, they¡¯ll arrest you, and you¡¯ll get sent to Eastgard in chains.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t question me, hag,¡± sneers Noelle. ¡°Can you get us the supplies or not?¡±


    ¡°What supplies?¡± Madame Rosa slumps her shoulders, coming to the understanding she won¡¯t talk Noelle out of it.


    ¡°Two bags filled with dried food. Water pouches. A map and compass. Rope. Bandages. And some clothes more fitting for a journey than the thin crap the White Wings gave these girls as a ¡®gift¡¯ for their service.¡±


    Madame Rosa picks up a glass and polishes it with her rag. ¡°You don¡¯t have enough money to cover all that. You¡¯ve lived here for five years already. I know what you own to the letter, so don¡¯t try to tell me otherwise.¡±


    Noelle takes a hold of Eve¡¯s sleeve. ¡°This is fine silk. Don¡¯t think I¡¯m clueless as to the cost of this stuff. You can keep their clothes and make a nice hunk of profit of it. We¡¯ll take our supplies, a meal for the night, and lodging. Agreed?¡±


    Eve rips her sleeve away. ¡°What? No! This is my ascension dress! You can¡¯t just sell it!¡±


    I can understand how she feels. Even if my clothes are cheap cotton, they do have some sentimental value. Eve did design them specifically for me.


    Noelle grabs a knife off the table and leaps at Eve. What in the world? I reach for my bow to defend her, but it¡¯s missing. Oh great. I left it in the pile of weapons at the door.


    Noelle is too fast in any case. The knife slices into Eve with a horrible tearing sound. I close my eyes, not willing to watch.


    I open them ever so slightly, knowing I have to at least see my lover one last time. But she¡¯s not on the ground. There isn¡¯t a spot of blood on her. Instead, her blue dress is split right down the middle with perfect precision and handling.


    Noelle sheathes her knives. ¡°Oh, isn¡¯t that a shame. Your ¡®ascension gown¡¯ is ruined. I guess you¡¯re going to have to sell it unless you want to enter the City of Angels naked.¡±


    Eve holds her dress together as best she can, and her entire body turns a light shade of pink. ¡°How dare you¡­¡±


    Madame Rosa leans in. ¡°You have yourself a deal if she agrees to it.¡±


    The dress falls off her shoulders, barely more than a towel at this point. ¡°I hate you all. But my new dress better be pretty!¡±