The shape of your wish

Why was it so warm... really too warm... and why did it feel like every ounce of strength had left my body, even though I was lying comfortably in what I presumed was a cozy bed...? Despite that, I managed to open my eyes after a few moments. There were forest-green bed sheets in front of my face... underneath, and around me too... I really was lying in a bed, soft and pleasant. I don't think even the beds in the royal castle felt this nice...

I noticed a hand lying on the pillow near my face. Then my eyes focused further and I saw a nightstand, a familiar crystal shining on it beautifully, reflecting narrow sun rays... but the rays had to be coming from somewhere... I shifted my head slightly. Oh yeah... there was a window, almost completely covered by heavy, dark-emerald curtains...

I then realized that the hand was mine. I moved it a little and frowned. Flexing my fingers felt so weird for some reason... and as I did it, a soft sound of something shifting behind me reached my ears, bringing back an echo of pain along my spine...

I propped myself on one elbow and tried to sit up. Wincing, I carefully turned around, because the quilt slid downwards in a different way that I would have expected...

And then an uncontrolled, terrified scream escaped my lips when something big and black jumped out at me from behind.

"Sigrian...!" I suddenly heard Light's voice along with the sound of a door opening. I turned reflexively and unintentionally hit something, but the feeling of it and the slight pain came from a place on my body where I've never before felt anything...

Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed exactly that grazed spot and I heard another scream: "Sigrian!"

I froze instantly. Maybe it was the fact that I never before heard Siaril screaming that worked like a spell at that very moment when normally I would have panicked even more, I wasn't sure. I felt him hold tightly... not exactly onto my wrist, but... I turned my head hesitantly.

And stopped breathing for a moment. There was a strong, black arch of a wing, jutting out from behind my own back. Instinctively realizing where it was probably attached to, I tried to pull it towards me. It jerked a little, but Siaril held tight so I stopped, scared that I might unintentionally hurt him. But that made it terrifyingly clear that the wing indeed belonged to my own body...

This just couldn't be happening for real.

"Light?" I heard a familiar voice. It took me a moment to remember that it belonged to Yasenka, who was now standing at Light's side, supporting him and watching his face with deep concern. "You alright?"

"Yeah..." he glanced at his hand which he was rubbing his head with a second before, as if checking for blood. Luckily, he didn't find any and looked at me, sulking. "What did I ever do to you?"

"I... I didn't..."

But Light just smiled a little. "I know. You alright?"

"I... well... I think so...?"

Siaril slowly loosened his grip on the wing and traced the edge of it carefully. A shiver ran down my spine. "You feel that, right?" he asked, voice soothing.

It was hard to believe that I did. I just nodded faintly. In response, Siaril pulled slightly at the edge and I lost my balance, propping myself with my hands on the satin bed sheets. "Don't tense up, try to relax it," Siaril's voice was totally casual, as if we were doing stuff like that on a daily basis.

I took a few deep breaths and slowly allowed the tautness between my shoulder blades to fade. The muscles of the wing followed. It was ridiculous. The expanse of dark, thin skin reached well beyond the huge bed.

The slight push of Siaril's hand brought me back to the moment. With his guidance I managed to retract the wing and fold it behind my back. I then shifted a bit and repeated the whole process with the left wing on my own. It wasn't very hard to get used to it, it kind of resembled moving a hand. I just didn't know if that swift progress should please or terrify me. Siaril then proceeded to explain how various parts worked, confirming my comparison to a palm. There even was a little claw at the top of each wing, to which he referred as 'thumbs'... it was so preposterous it wasn't even funny...

"You said that I'll be able to make them disappear," I interrupted his briefing. "How can I do that?"

"You just need to focus and think about it intensely enough."

I repositioned myself on the bed to sit more comfortably and closed my eyes. For a while, I repeated my wish in my mind, even imagined myself without the wings, normally, like always... I shot a death glare to my right after repeating it for the thirtieth time. The wing was still there. "I can't..." I whined.

"You're tired," Siaril reassured. "Besides, you just woke up, you must still be quite dizzy. It's been a whole day after all... get some rest, I'm sure you'll be able to do it later."

I raised my eyebrows. "A whole day...?" I whispered. I wasn't aware that I was neutralized for this long...

"Yeah, I think that's what you call being dead to the world..." Yasenka tried to joke. "Which reminds me, you must be terribly hungry, let me fetch something for you." And before I could answer, she gave me a sweet smile and disappeared through the door. Light silently followed.

I sighed.

"Does your back still hurt?"

I have no idea why Siaril's voice made me jump. When there was just him nearby, it always felt like there was no one around. His presence seemed to melt with the surrounding silence, the quiet and sad air around him making me feel very calm, a little depressed... and secretly happy inside. I hoped that him voluntarily staying by my side meant he was searching for some consolation after all. Even if he was doing it subconsciously and would probably shut the door of his room to my face if I pointed it out.

"No, I'm fine... just a little stiff," I answered finally and shifted on the bed again.

Before I could stand up though, Siaril soundlessly came closer and extended his hand, as if offering help. I gave him a questioning look. "It's not easy, believe me," he said, seeming a bit amused. "Your balance will be totally off now, and you'll be confused between arms and wings. You need to be careful."

I accepted it and slowly stood up. At first he only held my hand, not applying any pressure in any direction, wanting me to feel everything on my own, being there just in case. And everything seemed perfectly fine until I straightened up all the way to stand in front of him. It was then that the room suddenly swayed and I felt myself falling backwards. But at the exact same moment, or maybe even a split second before, Siaril's hand tightened around mine and firmly held me in place. I squeezed my eyes shut in terror and held my breath.

"It's alright," Siaril soothed. "It's good that you instinctively knew what to do though."

I looked at him again, confused. "I didn't do anything."

"You just flapped your wings."

"... I did?" I was completely unaware of that.

"Yes, but please try to watch it next time. Arranging an interior like this surely wasn't easy."

I smiled bitterly and allowed him to lead me across the room. To my relief, getting a hang of it didn't take very long. Siaril had to dodge the reflexive flicks of my wings less and less, until I managed to get from one end of the room to the other without his help.

Soon after that achievement, Yasenka and Light returned with a whole selection of dishes for us all to enjoy together. The illathan and the young mage were clearly overeager, but they knew the art really well... The food tasted delicious, was not too heavy and I could feel my strength quickly returning thanks to it.

I made another attempt at hiding my wings after finishing the meal - a completely futile one. While Yasenka tried to convince me not to worry about it that much, Siaril noticed that the sun was already setting outside. They all retreated from my room, allowing me to rest some more. Despite being up for such a short time, I felt incredibly tired again. I laid down, burying myself in the luxurious softness and fell asleep almost instantaneously.

The next day I woke up pretty late, but feeling much better. Well enough to explore my new room some more. It was rather longish, with two windows on both of the narrower walls, the bed placed in the middle between them, opposite the door. It looked a little luxurious at first glance, but was pretty basic really. Bed, dresser, desk, a small table in the corner... on top of which I spotted a wooden basin, a big flagon with water and a fluffy looking towel. I got up, sleepily walked over and washed my face and hands.

As I was drying myself, my eyes accidentally fell on a tall mirror that stood crosswise from the bed. I almost jumped. I completely forgot about the wings... I hesitantly walked over to it and took a closer look.

They were a quite unpleasant contrast to my scrawny, pale silhouette, my breathing causing them to rise and fall almost imperceptibly. They were horrible... like some ominous shadow, their inner surface not really black, rather faded, intersected by darker lines of supporting edges and delicate veins. I looked like a bat somebody has stepped on.

I reached out and touched the smooth, merciless surface of the mirror before closing my eyes. Maybe... maybe I'm just dreaming? I took a few deep breaths. Alright, I know I'm not dreaming... I opened my eyes again and turned away from my reflection with disgust.

I needed some fresh air... I peeked outside through a slit in the door. I saw two cozy-looking armchairs in the small anteroom, but they were both empty. I listened for a second and, deeming it 'safe', ventured outside. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now, I just wanted to get to know our new home a little better and take a closer look at the things I wasn't able to admire enough courtesy of my wings.

The room upstairs was arranged into a sort of small library, its floor made of polished, dark wooden planks. It was well lit thanks to the balcony that spread across almost the whole length of the wall looking out to the lake. It was probably the reason why my room didn't have windows on that wall. The balcony wouldn't allow much sun to come in.

The table that stood to the left was made of heavy-looking oak, its surface carved into a map of south-western Earlindon, meticulous and detailed, but delicate enough to not jeopardize the balance of the dishes meant to stand on it. The southern and eastern walls were completely covered by huge bookshelves, carrying countless books with leather bindings. In a small niche in the corner stood a waist-high pedestal, and on it the Dracascarion that we brought with us. Light has thought of everything...

I walked up to it and opened the book on a random page. The black ink was shifting to a dark cherry-red in some places, probably the effect of being decades, maybe centuries old. In the spots where the draconic runes changed to illathan, the familiar symbols common with my language formed sounds of completely unfamiliar ring. I wondered if Yasenka would mind teaching me some of the language of her kin as well... Without bothering to close the tome,

I returned downstairs.

Below the floor that held our bedrooms, I discovered what I assumed to be a bathroom... I really wasn't sure. The majority of it was occupied by a sort of big reservoir, carved out in the solid, polished sandstone of the floor and filled with water. The ceiling was looming high above the arch of my wings. It was probably hard to find a small room in this mansion...

Shortly after, I crossed the bridge connecting the two parts of the residence and went down the corridor. There were paintings decorating it too, just like in the entrance hall... Was Light an artist? They all seemed to have the same style, showing mostly landscapes. He didn't strike me as a wealthy connoisseur, so it was probably safe to assume that he painted some while being bored waiting for us.

Venturing outside, I examined the fronton of the mansion. Here as well, like in many other places, I noticed strange symbols engraved in the doorframe. They were scattered across the whole manor, on the edges of marble slabs covering the floors, by the window frames, on the pillars in the entrance hall... I tried to make sense of these subtle shapes. Some formed long lines like verses of a longer text, some were solitary decorations on some architectural elements. Eventually I decided that if they made no sense, then they had to be art. Still, I wasn't able to shake off the feeling that there was some older magic left in this place by its previous owner.

I hesitated for a moment, not sure in which direction to explore next. The gardens on the west side looked really tempting, but I thought I heard Yasenka's beautiful laugh coming from the edge of the forest, so I decided to take a look at them later. I circled the mansion around the east side and headed towards the lake.

It was beautiful. The warm sun rays were bathing the slowly greening forest and water in gold. The lake's surface mirrored the tiny clouds above, looking like sheep gathering by a watering place. On the far north end of it that mirror was starting to stir from a gentle, sparkling rain that came down from the only cloudlet that was gray.

I was looking at it, but it was as if I wasn't seeing it at all...

My eyes dropped to my feet as I tried my best to not think too much about what was happening, looking for some comfort among the golden sand. What I found instead was a branch that washed ashore. After staring at it dumbly for a while, I picked it up and shook the water off. It's size made it a quite nice replacement for a training sword...

I shifted my right food forward a little and took a stance. It's been a while since I practiced swordsmanship, but the memory in my muscles was already telling me that I never forgot it. In my old muscles at least... I exhaled slowly and executed a basic thrust with a step forward. My right wing twitched awkwardly, almost making me lose balance. Grumbling in annoyance, I tried a slash, doing my best to keep the wing out of the way so I didn't hit it and break something right after getting them. The speed and angle I was so used to suddenly felt all wrong, the wobbliness only adding to my irritation.

I wanted to throw the branch away, but suddenly became aware of a figure standing in the direction I wanted to chuck it. Upon noticing that I spotted him, Light smiled and clapped a few times.

"Incredible," he said softly. "Even though your wings throw you off, I can see some serious talent."

"You think so...?" I looked away, feeling bitter. "I haven't practiced since... for a few months."

"I wouldn't be able to tell. Who were you trained by?"

I hesitated yet again. "By the... chief supervisor of the Royal Knight Academy..."

Instead of asking me to stop joking, Light nodded casually. "Yeah, I thought it would be something like that."

"Wha... Why?"

"Your style doesn't really have anything that suggests it's your own. It's very... generic."

"As if anything was my own back then..." I muttered before the thought of being careful managed to shut my mouth.

But Light didn't seem bothered. "It's alright. It just means you'll have to make your own."

"Yeah... one day in the unforeseeable future..."

That was when Light dropped the smile. "What's wrong?"

A silent sigh escaped my lips. "I'm not even sure what..."

The young mage seemed to think for a moment, then came a few steps closer. "Is it the wings? Are they still not disappearing?"

I shook my head slightly, starting to feel like his words were slowly crystallizing the doubts in my heart somehow, giving them shape. "They're... so horrible..."

I suddenly felt Light's hand on my shoulder and looked up miserably, even though I didn't want to. "Can we sit for a moment?" he asked.

We settled down onto the soft grass, at the line where it started thinning out, giving way to the delicate sand. Light looked into the sky, as if searching for the right words among the clouds. "Is it their appearance that scares you? Or... is it their meaning?"

"Meaning?" I looked him in the eyes.

There was something in them that told me he was already sorry for what he was going to say next. "Do they seem horrible to you because they make you different?" he finally asked.

I averted my gaze. How could I get mad... he was just right... But something inside me still told me that this wasn't the entire truth.

"Sigrian... we all are different. I understand the fear of someone saying you're weird one day. And I think most people go through a time in their lives where they think that they want to be special in some way... but then there are people who really are special, are different, but on the inside they wish nothing more than to just be normal, like everyone else... But both these types have something in common. Everyone has something deep inside of them that they're afraid of, ashamed of, and sometimes spend their lifetimes trying to hide it from the rest of the world. The problem with you is... you aren't able to do that anymore..."

I smiled bitterly, desperately trying to fight tears as I looked ahead at the tiny waves that caressed the shore. "You're just mean, you know that...?" I tried to joke in a pained whisper.

I suddenly felt his cool hand on mine and turned my head to look at him. There was a smile on his face, telling me that here is where he wanted to get to the point. "But it's at this moment, that you have to ask yourself... what is more important to you: being 'normal' or being happy?" My hand stirred involuntarily under his fingers. "Happiness isn't defined by what the majority of people thinks. It's you who has to decide what feels right to you and what course of action doesn't cause you to have any regrets in life... And you won't ever find true happiness in either being 'normal' nor 'special' if these will be the only traits that define your happiness."

I just stared for a long moment, mesmerized, then turned my gaze away to look at the sand again. I felt something in his words starting to sink into me and settling somewhere deep in my heart. And as if wanting to make sure it stays there for good, he continued: "Besides, I don't think they look all that bad. I suppose you didn't see their outer surface yet?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Is it different?"

"It's very different," he took a firmer hold of my hand and stood up, pulling me to my feet with him. "Try dipping one of them forward and spreading it, just be careful. I assume they're not very flexible yet."

He took a step back and I followed his advice. What I saw stunned me.

The outer surface, invisible to me when I held the wings straight, had the deepest, magnificent shade of pure black. It was entirely different from what I saw in the mirror. It was... beautiful... I reached out and touched the wing for the first time since they appeared. It was soft and warm, far more pleasant than the best quality velour at the royal castle...

Light smiled upon seeing my bewildered stare. "I like them a lot. And if you want, I can do some sparring with you so you learn to control them while wielding a sword."

"You're a swordsman too?"

"Not an expert, but I think I can keep up with you. And it would be really interesting to see you develop beyond what you already know in flight..."

I blinked, looking into his warm eyes. "In... flight?"