He stood at the edge of a vast, frozen plain—white as bone, endless as silence. A tree loomed in the distance, black and burning, its branches curled like fingers clawing the sky. Beneath its roots, something stirred, watching and breathing. "Come home, E-lorde memor" a voice whispered. It was not kind, it was not cruel and it was ancient.
Then light! A searing, yellow lantern light tore across the boy's vision, and the dream shattered like frost under boot.
"On your feet, rats!" came the bark of Commander Starwick, his voice as coarse as the salt crusted boards beneath them. The rusted lantern in his hand swung wildly as he kicked at the line of sleeping bodies. "Up! Captain wants you filthy brats lined and ready!"
Rain sat up slowly, blinking against the dim glow. Around him, the slave hold came to life with groans and murmurs, children rubbing sleep from their eyes, older ones clutching their rags tighter against the morning chill. The air stank of damp wood and sweat, but no salt water. Somewhere above, the wind howled not through open sea, but through open sky.
The ship groaned as it shifted in the clouds, Rain glanced at the porthole. A smear of pale light filtered through, but no sun just swirling mist, gold-streaked and strange. They were still flying....still nowhere close to land. A girl beside him 'Lira', nudged him with her elbow.
"You dreamin again, twig?"
He didn't answer, he never did. What was there to say? He stood, barefoot and quiet, the iron collar cold against his neck.
"Move!" Starwick roared. "We've got a pretty little job for you lot today, real important. You're gonna be bait!"
Murmurs rose among the slaves, Rain's eyes narrowed. "Bait for what?" a boy asked, voice trembling. Starwick grinned, teeth yellow as rotted parchment "For a heist! Captain says you're to distract the guards while we take what's ours. That means running. Screaming. Dying, maybe. But make it convincing."
Gasps. Whimpers. A few tried to run, only to be clubbed down by crew.
Rain didn't flinch. The dream still lingered in the back of his mind like smoke—burning tree, frozen land, that voice. But this wasn't a dream, Starwick's grin didn't fade. If anything, it widened.
"No use gawking," he said, kicking open a crate that thunked onto the deck with a heavy thud. Inside were feathers—each nearly the length of a man's arm, iridescent black with silver tips, humming faintly with a strange heat. Rain had never seen anything like them.
"From the Jotun eagles," Starwick growled. "They'll keep you alive, mostly."
Crew members stepped forward, grabbing handfuls of the feathers and thrusting them into the hands of the slaves. One for each child. Rain hesitated as a rough palm shoved a feather against his chest and it was warm, unnaturally so, and pulsed like a heartbeat.
He looked ups and the sound of footsteps caught his attention, the commander walked towards the cargo gate. The wall at the end of the hold was opening a great iron door splitting open with a hiss, revealing a ramp that sloped straight out into clouded sky.
Wind howled into the chamber blowing across his white hair then the ship banked left, and some of the smaller children stumbled.
"Mission begins now," Starwick bellowed. "The guards won't wait, neither will the Captain."
One boy stepped forward, pale and shaking. "Wh-what do we do with the feathers?"
"Jump and pray," Starwick said flatly. "That's what ya only need know to do."
The boy's eyes went wide and he turned back, a crossbow bolt cracked from Starwick's sidearm and the boy dropped. Rain's breath froze up in fear and silence gripped the hold like a claw. Starwick holstered the weapon with a satisfied grunt.
"Last to jump dies. Go."
No one moved for a heartbeat, then panic broke....
Screaming, shoving, children bolted toward the ramp. Some tripped, some were pushed, but all ran. One by one they leapt into the sky, clutching their feathers with white-knuckled fists. The ship was flying low over a Fortress.....spires and towers glimpsed between clouds, courtyards crawling with armored figures. Rain held his feather tight, Lira grabbed his sleeve.
"I....I can't," she said, eyes wide. "Rain, I...." Starwick raised his weapon again and Rain shoved her.
"Jump!"
She fell forward, screaming, and vanished into mist. Rain was the last and the commander provoked "What are ya waitin for half-blood" he ran, heart pounding, lungs burning, the cold air tearing at his eyes.
He leapt....
The wind screamed in his ears as Rain plummeted, clouds tore past his skin like blades, the world spinning in white and blue streaks. He gripped the Jotun eagle feather tighter, waiting for it to do something.
"Nothing! Damn it!"
No pulse! No glow! Just a dead fall and rising panic. Below, a sprawl of marble towers and golden rooftops raced up to meet him...his chest seized. The ground would swallow him whole.
Then instinct....He tore off his vest, teeth clenched against the wind, and tied the fabric to the base of the feather. One knot! Two! Three! With numb fingers, he gripped the makeshift handle and angled his body. The feather caught up with the wind and he was there in control. Not like a fall! Not like flight! Something in between like riding a wild current of wind. The feather jerked against the fabric, and suddenly Rain was gliding, the air beneath him no longer a threat but a path.
He gasped! yet overjoyed with his ingenuity. Below and around him, other children flailed and spun helplessly. Lira was spinning end over end, screaming. He twisted his body, leveled out beside her, and yelled, "Tie your shirt! Ride it!"
She blinked, caught on, and scrambled with fumbling hands. One by one, the others began to mimic him, some clumsy, some precise. Soon, they were gliding, drifting like scattered leaves across the sky.
Laughter, wild and desperate, rang out. But it didn't last, a piercing screech split the air. Rain turned, above them it came sharp and fast, shapes sleek and dark, cutting the wind with predatory grace. "Sky falcons!" one of the slaves exclaimed. Riders in bone masks straddled the beasts, crossbows already gleaming in the sun.
The falcons dove, panic burst through the ranks of falling children. One boy cried out as a bolt struck his chest and he spun out, tumbling into the clouds below. Then Rain saw it far above, from the deck of the ship, more bodies dropping. But these weren't children, they were the crew. Clad in black armor, weapons drawn, feathers already tied up as they surged through the sky like missiles.
Rain's stomach twisted, "We're the bait, for sky falcon riders". He looked down at the Fortress guard towers lighting up, soldiers scrambling, wards flickering to life. The falcons weren't meant to catch them, they were meant to force a reaction. To draw out the enemy, the real attack was starting now.....and he was caught between this trap
The sky was fire and feathers, as fire lit bolts surged through the chaotic sky. Rain's hands gripped the makeshift reins as if they were a part of him. The feather sang beneath him now gliding with eerie precision, wind currents bending around his body like they knew him. His legs shifted for balance without thought, eyes narrowing against the rush of air and the shrieking falcons above.
He twisted, dove, and pulled up in a smooth arc that left two falcons crashing into one another behind him. Below, Lira followed his lead her feather jerky but stable, a tight fear in her face giving way to something else...awe.
"Rain!" she called. "How are you....doing that?"
He didn't know, It just made sense. Every gust of wind, every shift in balance it felt like a memory lived deep in his bones. Other children began mimicking him, their frantic flailing turning to coordinated glides. Seven, maybe eight of them, weaving through the open sky like startled birds...but with rhythm now.
Screams still cut through the air....One boy was caught mid-flight as talons closed around his torso, the falcon snapping him up like prey. Another spiraled down, his feather burning from a bolt. In all this Rain didn't look back, not even once. A dense forest surged up beneath them twisting trees, roots like coils, all cast in silver-green light. A warded boundary. The fortress wasn't far.....
"Steady!" Rain shouted, voice ragged. "We land there!"
Rain leaned back, shifted his weight, and skimmed just above the canopy. Branches scraped his boots, then parted as he angled downward into a clearing. With a hard roll and a spray of leaves, he hit the forest floor, feather slicing into moss like a blade through cloth.
He groaned in pain from the fall, around him the others crashed down in bursts. Some landing on their feet, others tumbling with ragged cries. Lira hit the ground in a heap, rolled, and sat up laughing between tears.
They counted...
Rain.
Lira.
Five others.
Seven in total.
Bloodied, shaken, but alive. Above them, the sky burned. Screams and flashes of magic thundered in the air, far off now. The crew was still falling, the heist in full swing but Rain and the others had slipped beneath it. For now, they were safe. The forest breathed around them, quiet and still in the aftermath...Rain stood first. The others lingered in the clearing, some sitting in silence, some watching the sky. The booming sounds of war above were fading, distant now but none of them looked relieved...just lost.
"We're going to the fortress," Rain said, brushing dirt from his sleeves.
The others stared, Lira tilted her head. "Why?" one of the children asked.
"To take whatever scraps are left behind. Weapons, food, anything worth more than slave rations and a collar." He looked around, eyes like flint. "That's what this mission was, we were used as throwaways, distraction meat."
One boy thin, wide-eyed shook his head. "No! No, we wait here. They'll come for us after the heist. They have to.....right?"
Rain scoffed.....
"They won't." He stepped toward him. "You think pirates risk anything for slaves? We're lucky they didn't shoot us all down to keep secrets buried."
"But the fortress....." another girl said, "It's probably guarded... It's dangerous!"
Rain's voice was quiet, cold....yet bearing the undeniable truth.
"And that's why you'll be slaves all your lives."
The words hit like a slap, no one spoke. Lira rose up from the stump she sat on, walking to Rain's side.
"He's right. I'd rather die on my feet than starve waiting for chains."
One by one, the others stood. No argument, just reluctant silence and they began to move through the trees following Rain's lead, ducking under hanging vines and clambering over tangled roots. He moved like someone who knew the path already, even if the path didn't exist.
The forest thinned, and then stone. A massive wall loomed ahead, ancient and weather-worn, covered in ivy and clawed by time. Spires rose behind it like jagged teeth, parts of the structure smoldering from the battle above.
Rain put a hand on the wall, "Climb!" he said simply.
It took time...clumsy, slow, one slip away from death but eventually they reached the top, bodies trembling and breaths shallow. And then they saw it beyond the wall, the fortress grounds were cracked and bleeding. Corpses in silver armor lay tangled with black-scaled beasts. The air reeked of scorched stone and blood. Strange orange fires burned with no smoke. Screams echoed, muffled by thick walls and flickering ward light. Rain stared at the flags....
One was a silver tree, roots curling like vines "Alfheim!"
The other was a black sun surrounded by serpents "Muspelheim!"
His throat went dry, they hadn't only landed near the fortress. They had landed in the warzone between two realms....and neither side was known for mercy. The stench of smoke and blood thickened as they crept down from the wall, slipping into the broken courtyards of the fortress.
Bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls silver-armored elves with sun-marked helms, ash-skinned gorgons twisted in death poses, their molten blades still glowing faintly. Rain didn't flinch. He moved like shadow, eyes scanning the ruins, sharp and distant.
Then he stopped....
One of the fallen elves lay with his helm cracked open, hair splayed like pale silk across the stone. Rain crouched beside him, something tightening in his chest.
The ears.
Long, tapered.
Gracefully curved.
"Like mine!" Rain whispered.
He reached up, almost without thought, brushing his own ear with shaking fingers. All his life, they'd called him cursed....
"Knife-ears."
"Witch-born."
"Forest spawn."
He'd never known why, until now. But there was no time to dwell, the air was thick with magic and death, and they were not alone in these ruins.
"Rain" Lira whispered with urgency, "We need to move!"
He stood and he told himself, "Feel later"
They slipped deeper into the fortress, past collapsed halls and burning staircases. The Muspel gorgons had mined gold and silver from the surrounding land, chunks of raw ore and crafted trinkets lay abandoned in shattered carts and cracked display cases. The children grabbed what they could, rings, pendants, coins, tucking them into torn satchels and ragged clothes.
Then they reached great doors, seven meters high, carved from blackened oak and reinforced with blood runes now splintered and fading. Rain pushed them open...
The throne room was chaos wrapped in grandeur.
Broken stained glass spilled light across the stone floor, painting the blood red and green. Pirate crewmen still fresh from battle dragged elf and gorgon corpses into one corner like refuse. Others laughed as they pried open chests and looted relics, some shaped like stars, others still humming with dormant power.
And there he was.
The Captain.
Sprawled on the high throne like he'd been born on it, one leg slung over the armrest, a jeweled goblet in hand, smoke curling from his lips. His coat was stitched from dragonhide, and his eyes gleamed like twin suns burning, wild and ancient. He saw them immediately and the children froze.
For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of flame and the clink of coins. Then the Captain grinned....
"Well, well," he said, voice like velvet over steel. "The rats made it to the feast."
The Captain rose from the throne with a lazy stretch, his goblet forgotten. His heavy boots thudded across the blood-slicked floor as he passed the children, gaze sweeping them like they were sacks of gold.
"I like it," he said, pausing beside Rain. "When my coin turns up a good profit."
He smirked, then patted Rain twice on the shoulder. Rain didn't flinch, the Captain's crew began to move at once, snapping orders, gathering loot, herding the children back the way they came. The throne room emptied quickly, boots echoing against stone, the scent of scorched metal lingering in the air.
Outside, the flying ship lowered through the smoke like a great black vulture, ropes unfurling for ascent. The pirates climbed with practiced ease, dragging sacks of treasure and the trembling younger slaves behind them. Rain stood still at the broken threshold, eyes cast upward. Far beyond the fortress, the sky was splitting with war.
The Elves had arrived.....
Graceful ships like crescent moons cut through the clouds, banners trailing behind them...silver-threaded and sun-bright. Their soldiers glided down on wings of woven light, forming ranks with impossible precision. The remaining gorgons, still clawing through the lower battlements, were overwhelmed in seconds. The flames of Muspel snuffed out as the fortress flooded with elves, but not killed.
Rain watched, breath caught in his chest. The elven warriors moved like wind through a forest calm, beautiful, lethal and precise. One of them, a tall figure with a helm shaped like a hawk's beak, turned for a moment as if sensing something.
Rain ducked behind the broken doorway, heart hammering. The pirates didn't notice, they were already rising into the clouds....laughing. Rain followed Lira up the ropes without a word, eyes still turned back toward the fortress below.
Toward the elves.
Toward the part of him that had been hidden in blood, shadow, and shame...now revealed in the face of the fallen, in the shape of his own ears, in the burning question pulsing in his veins...
"What am I?"
As the ship pulled away, Rain stood at the edge of the deck, wind curling through his hair, the last sight of the fortress burned into his memory. And he knew...this wasn't the end of the mission.