The Wings' Rebellion
A few days passed after the tournament.
For the first time in a long while, Sam did nothing.
No wars.
No strategies.
No divine responsibilities.
He stayed home.
He ate meals at the table.
Played with Ruhi.
Slept without alarms.
And somehow… that felt stranger than battle.
A Normal Afternoon
Laughter echoed through the grand hall.
Ruhi stood in the middle of the room, a cloth tied clumsily over her eyes.
"Papa, don't move!" she shouted, arms stretched forward as she stumbled around blindly.
Furniture toppled. Cushions flew. Decorative items met the floor one by one.
Sam leaned casually against a pillar, watching her destroy the hall with full concentration.
"You're getting colder," he teased.
"I don't care!" Ruhi declared proudly. "I'll find you even if I break everything!"
She turned suddenly—
And collided straight into him.
"I caught you!" she yelled triumphantly, ripping the blindfold off.
Sam laughed and raised his hands. "You win. I surrender."
They fell onto the floor together, laughing uncontrollably.
That was when—
"What is THIS?"
Meera's voice cut through the hall like judgment.
Both froze.
Meera stood at the entrance, hands on her hips, eyes scanning the disaster zone.
"You two," she said slowly, dangerously, "turned the entire hall into a battlefield."
Sam opened his mouth—
"Don't," Meera snapped. "I don't want explanations."
She pointed at Ruhi. "Homework. Now."
Ruhi tried. "Mom, please—later?"
Meera didn't raise her voice.
She just looked.
Ruhi swallowed. "Okay…"
And quietly walked away.
Sam remained seated on the floor, exhausted and unapologetic.
Meera turned to him.
"And YOU," she said, "are you planning to stay like this forever, or will you at least stand up?"
Sam sighed dramatically. "When I wasn't home, you complained I never stayed. Now that I am, you're complaining again."
Meera pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not complaining. I'm asking you to at least bathe and stop sleeping all day."
Sam stood.
Then suddenly stepped behind her.
Before she could react, he pulled her gently back against him, one arm around her waist.
"So… what were you saying, ma'am?" he murmured.
Meera froze.
"Sam—what are you doing?" she whispered. "Ruhi might—"
"She's doing homework," he replied calmly.
Meera tried to move.
Didn't try very hard.
"Go freshen up," she said quietly. "Dinner later."
Sam kissed her forehead once.
Then walked away.
Nightfall
Later that night, the house was silent.
Ruhi slept peacefully.
Meera lay on the bed, half-covered by blankets.
Sam stood on the balcony, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.
That was when Meera noticed it.
His back.
Two deep scars across his shoulders.
Not shallow.
Not accidental.
They looked… forced.
Like something had been torn from him.
Meera stood slowly and approached.
Her fingers brushed the scar.
The moment she touched it—
Sam's breath caught.
Blood.
White light.
Blurred memories.
His reflex took over.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, eyes flashing faint red.
Meera gasped—not in pain, but fear.
Sam realized.
He released her instantly.
The color faded from his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
Meera swallowed. "Sam… how did you get these scars?"
His expression hardened.
"No more questions."
He turned away and lay down without another word.
Meera stood there, hand still hovering in the air.
Something was wrong.
Something old.
Something buried.
And whatever it was—
It wasn't finished with him.
The next morning felt ordinary.
Almost suspiciously ordinary.
Sam had already left for work.
Ruhi was at school.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Meera stood in the kitchen for a long moment, her hands resting on the counter, her mind replaying last night over and over again.
The red flicker in Sam's eyes.
The reflex.
The way he shut her down.
No more questions.
She exhaled slowly.
Something about those scars wasn't just physical.
It was… buried.
And then she remembered.
Zingari.
Before leaving after the tournament, Zingari had pressed a small crystal button into Meera's hand.
"If you ever feel alone," she had said gently, "press this. I will come."
Meera hesitated for only a second.
Then she pressed it.
The Arrival
A warm golden glow filled the living room.
Light spiraled softly, not violently—like sunlight condensing into form.
Zingari appeared within it, her white dress flowing gently as the glow faded.
She smiled warmly.
"Good morning, Lady Meera."
Meera gave a small, tired smile back.
"Sorry for calling you suddenly. I just… didn't want to be alone."
Zingari's expression softened. "You never need to apologize for that."
They sat together on the couch.
At first, the conversation was light—Ruhi's school stories, the house, small jokes about how impossible Sam could be sometimes.
Then Zingari tilted her head slightly.
"May I ask something?" she said carefully.
Meera nodded.
"What do you think of Master Sam… as your husband?"
Meera blinked, slightly surprised by the question.
"He's…" she paused, choosing her words carefully. "He's kind. In his own way. He protects us. He tries. He's a good father."
Her gaze lowered.
"But sometimes he becomes… distant. Strange. Like he's somewhere else entirely."
Zingari didn't interrupt.
Meera swallowed.
"And last night…"
She told her everything.
The balcony.
The scars.
The red in his eyes.
The way he shut her down.
As she spoke, Zingari's smile slowly faded.
Her expression turned serious.
Meera noticed.
"Zingari," she said quietly, "can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me about Sam's past? Or… at least those scars?"
Silence filled the room.
Zingari looked away.
For the first time, she seemed conflicted.
After several seconds, she inhaled slowly.
"I signed a blood contract with Master Sam," she said gently. "If I reveal forbidden details about his past… I die instantly."
Meera froze.
"What?"
"It is not metaphorical," Zingari added calmly. "It is absolute."
Meera's heart tightened.
Before she could respond—
Zingari's eyes flickered briefly.
A voice echoed only in her mind.
Tell her the minimum. Nothing more.
Zingari understood instantly.
Sam was listening.
Not to control.
Not to threaten.
But because he knew he had hurt Meera.
And he felt guilty.
Zingari turned back to Meera.
Her tone softened.
"Since you are his wife… you deserve at least the truth in pieces."
Meera's fingers clenched slightly.
Zingari continued.
"The scars you saw… are not just wounds of the body."
She paused.
"They are reminders."
"Of what?" Meera whispered.
"There was a time," Zingari said slowly, "when Master Sam surpassed even demi-gods. Not in title. In existence."
Her golden eyes dimmed slightly.
"He carried burdens alone. He stepped into wars that were never meant to be survived. He protected us—his generals—at the cost of himself."
Meera's breathing grew shallow.
"What did he face?"
Zingari looked at her.
"If an ordinary being witnessed even a fragment of what he endured… their mind would collapse."
The room felt colder.
"Some battles," Zingari continued, "can be won… and still leave something broken."
She gestured gently toward her own chest.
"Not everything heals. Not even for someone like him."
Meera's eyes filled with tears.
"So those scars…"
"…are not punishment," Zingari finished quietly. "They are proof."
Proof that he survived something that should have erased him.
Silence lingered.
Meera looked down at her hands.
"I thought I knew him," she whispered.
"You do," Zingari replied gently. "You know the version of him that chose peace."
She smiled faintly.
"That is not weakness. That is strength."
Meera wiped her tears.
"Does he still carry it?" she asked softly. "That darkness?"
Zingari's answer was careful.
"Yes."
A pause.
"But he chose you. And Ruhi."
"And that choice," she added quietly, "is the only reason he hasn't fallen back into it."
Meera closed her eyes.
For the first time, she wasn't afraid of the scars.
She was afraid of what would happen if those old battles ever returned.
Zingari stood slowly.
"I cannot say more."
Meera nodded.
"Thank you."
The golden light began to gather around Zingari once more.
Before disappearing, she said gently—
"If the past ever reaches for him again… you must be the one who pulls him back."
Then she vanished.
The house was silent again.
But it no longer felt peaceful.
Meera stood alone in the living room, staring at nothing.
She now understood something important.
Sam wasn't distant because he didn't care.
He was distant because he was protecting them—
From something that once almost destroyed him.
Outside, clouds slowly gathered.
Unnoticed.
Unnatural.
And far beneath frozen roots buried deep within forgotten lands—
Something stirred.