My days in Avion are, without exaggeration, the most unproductive and boring days I've had since I landed in this world.
All I do is sit in my little nook, listen to birds admire themselves—and each other—and stare at the sky. When they leave, I'm free to wander, but there's no one to talk to. Everyone here lives in nests scattered across the mountains, tucked away in cliffs and branches like secrets.
The three harpies who stay with Aron don't even acknowledge my existence. They hover around him constantly, doting, whispering, touching—like I'm invisible.
I get so bored that I end up cleaning.
Feathers. Bark. Vines.
I sort them by color and texture, just to feel like I'm doing something. Sometimes I play with the fire that glows in my palm, coaxing it into small flickers, careful not to burn anything. If I destroy their nests, they might abandon this place—and leave me here to die alone.
I still don't understand how I can control this fire. It responds to me so easily, like it's always been part of me. I know I could use it for protection… or destruction. But I won't. This place is too beautiful to burn.
At times, I bathe in the streams without any care, letting the cold water wash over me, letting myself exist without fear—if only for a moment.
Whenever Talon returns, he brings fruits, seeds, and bundles of plants. He places them near me without a word and leaves.
Weird.
For someone so arrogant and selfish, I expected him to starve me—or worse. Still, I always thank him. Kindness, no matter how forced, deserves acknowledgment. At least he tries.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone is looking for me.
Is Theo still trapped in Mariner's Bay?
Did Pietri and the other children finally reunite with their parents?
Does Rocco even know I'm missing?
And Gideon…
Did the trees in Juno bloom like I hoped they would?
I fall asleep thinking about them all.
When I wake up the next morning, I feel… lighter.
Maybe it's foolish, but as long as I'm alive, I refuse to drown in despair. I slept well—and that alone is something to be grateful for. Inspirational and self-help books were always my thing, and right now, I cling to their lessons like a lifeline.
So I hum.
Then I sing.
Then I dance.
I pull out my scrunchie, let my hair fall free, and move—swaying, twirling, laughing to myself. I don't care how ridiculous I look. I'm alone. Or so I think.
I'm so lost in the moment that I don't realize the air has gone quiet.
Too quiet.
When I finally stop, I see them.
All the birds are watching me.
Every single one.
They stare like they've never seen someone dance before—eyes wide, feathers ruffling. I suddenly realize how this might look to them.
Probably… sensual.
"What are you doing?" asks a green-feathered harpy. Her plumage reminds me of a peacock. "Your movements are so graceful."
Talon is there too, watching me like I might combust. I can't tell if he's furious—or intrigued.
"I was just dancing and singing," I say, smiling nervously. "Graceful? Really?"
Flattered. Completely flattered.
"Teach me!" the blue-feathered harpy exclaims. She reminds me of a macaw. "My feathers would look amazing moving like that!"
"My name is Lyca," says the pink-feathered one—elegant, flamingo-like. "I want to learn too!"
"Okay!" I laugh. "I will!"
I glance at Talon, but he says nothing—just turns and flies away. Guess I didn't impress him.
The others introduce themselves.
"Lina," says the green one.
"Lira," says the blue.
"I'm Sienna," I reply, grinning. Thank goodness—I finally have someone to talk to.
I teach them how to twirl, how to move with intention. They're breathtaking. Their wings catch the light as they spin, radiant and weightless. Feathers drift to the ground, and I instinctively collect them—too pretty to leave behind.
I get along with them easily. Maybe because they don't see me as competition. I'm inferior to them, in their eyes—and that makes me harmless.
They're chaotic—bumping into each other, arguing over who's prettiest, laughing nonstop. I giggle along with them, grateful for the distraction.
Eventually, we rest.
Once again, they gather around Aron, leaning against him, curling close. I watch them, curiosity gnawing at me.
"Why are you always with him?" I ask.
"Because we need him," Lyca answers. "He gives us comfort and protection. And we do the same for him."
A mutual bond.
"But he doesn't even move," I say. "He's always asleep."
"No one dares threaten us when he's near," Lyca replies. "He chose us. That makes us the most beautiful."
I nod slowly. "Then what is he to your king? They seem close."
"He's His Majesty's closest ally," Lina says. "They're good friends."
"But if he has a kingdom to run," I ask carefully, "why is he here?"
"He was brokenhearted," Lyca blurts out. "He lost the will to live."
"Stop!" Lina snaps. "Too many questions, Sienna. Ask him yourself."
Lira claps. "Let's dance again!"
By the time they return to Aron's side, I'm exhausted.
I stare at him from afar. Is he aware of everything? Could I really talk to him? My curiosity burns hotter than my boredom.
Talon returns once more, fruits in hand.
"Thank you for thinking of me," I say sincerely.
"Why did you agree to teach them?" he asks, glancing at the harpies.
"Am I not allowed?" I reply politely.
"They won't leave you alone," he says flatly. "And if you upset them… you might die."
He walks away.
I freeze.
What?!
Die?
Oh no. Oh no.
Sienna—what did you just sign up for?