The green flame of the candle flickered and died as a sudden, unnatural chill swept through the workshop. Outside, the pulsating vines that guarded the manor began to shrivel and turn to ash.
"They brought a Sun-Caster," Evelyn whispered, her eyes widening. "The Church isn't just hunting us anymore; they are trying to erase this entire forest."
A blinding beam of holy light struck the cliffside, causing the stone walls to groan and crack. Alaric stood up, his new wings twitching instinctively. They felt heavy, yet filled with a strange, buoyant energy. The blackened skin on his back had healed, fusing perfectly with the leathery membranes of his wings.
"Can you use them?" Evelyn asked, grabbing a satchel filled with her most precious vials.
Alaric looked at the ceiling, then back at his hands. "I don't know how."
"Then learn fast," she snapped, jumping onto his back and locking her arms around his neck. "Unless you want to see if your 'holy' brothers still have mercy for a man with wings of a demon."
The roof of the manor exploded in a shower of splinters and white fire. Standing on the ledge of the cliff above them was a figure in gold-trimmed robes—a Sun-Caster, his staff glowing with the intensity of a miniature star. Behind him, dozens of archers prepared their silver-tipped arrows.
"Abomination!" the Sun-Caster bellowed. "In the name of the Light, I sentence you to ashes!"
Alaric felt the Chimera heart pulse—a violent, rhythmic thud that sent a wave of heat through his wings. He didn't think; he reacted. With a powerful downward stroke of his wings, he launched himself into the air. The force of the takeoff shattered the wooden chair he had been sitting on.
They weren't flying gracefully like birds; they were cutting through the air like a jagged blade. Arrows whistled past them, some grazing Alaric's armor, but he was too fast. The sheer power in his back muscles was intoxicating. For a moment, the fear of being a monster was eclipsed by the thrill of absolute freedom.
"Higher!" Evelyn shouted over the rushing wind. "If we reach the cloud layer, the Sun-Caster won't be able to lock onto our heat signature!"
Alaric banked hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a pillar of holy fire. He looked down and saw the forest burning—the only home Evelyn had known, disappearing in flames. As they pierced through the thick, grey clouds, the world became silent. The screams of the soldiers and the roar of the fire faded. It was just them, suspended in a cold, white void.
"Where to now?" Alaric asked, his voice steady for the first time. "We have no home, no allies, and the entire world wants us dead."
Evelyn leaned closer to his ear, her hair whipping in the wind. "We go to the one place even the Church fears to tread. We go to the Dead Marshes of Aethelgard. There are pieces of a Great Dragon there... and your heart is going to need a new set of lungs if we want to cross the ocean."
Alaric tightened his grip on his sword. The path ahead was dark and uncertain, but for the first time in his life, he wasn't following the Light—he was carving his own trail through the shadows.