A day after Sina and Myael's hospital visit, the quiet afternoon felt unbearably dull. Restless from lying in bed for so long, I took a slow walk down the hallway to loosen my stiff body. Kyle, meanwhile, had far too many questions.
He kept pestering me—how I recognized the giant's Gift, how I knew only earth-aligned magic could wound it. But the answer was simple. When that mask shattered at the brink of death, strange fragments of knowledge had spilled into my mind—messy, fragmented notes, but precise enough to save my life.
Even so, Kyle's questions led nowhere. Every time I asked about Meteor or how the giant's abilities existed in the first place, he only replied with uncertainty. My future self truly was useless.
As I walked, thinking about the mysteries that still hung over us, I noticed someone coming toward me with an unsteady gait. Before I could examine why he seemed familiar, Kyle dragged my thoughts elsewhere—chiefly toward the broken dwarven blade. The moment he mentioned Zephyrus, I felt a headache forming. I had no desire to report that my priceless gift had snapped in half. According to Kyle, fixing it meant traveling all the way to Chorus to find a dwarven blacksmith. If no dwarf was there… we would simply have to give up.
I sighed, already tired at the thought.
A faint sting suddenly pricked my forehead—my Gift reacting. Before I understood why, the man walking ahead lost strength in his legs and collapsed. Instinct took over. I darted forward and caught him just before he hit the floor.
He was handsome, polite, and clearly ill. His limbs looked thin and fragile, and as I helped him stand, something behind him caught my eye—something impossible for an ordinary human.
A wing. Covered in light-brown feathers.
The man introduced himself as Shrik, a "familiar," though he couldn't fly. His right wing was missing—either lost or never there. He asked if I could help him back to his room. It was only twenty steps away, but matching his pace made it feel like a long journey.
After sitting down, he thanked me and then asked if I would stay and talk for a while. I agreed.
Shrik explained that he wasn't an academy student; he was simply hospitalized here due to his frail health and his missing wing. He lived most of his life unable to even walk long distances without help.
When he learned my name, he lit up—apparently the stories of the "Highlander" had reached even the hospital rooms. He mentioned that someone outside kept bringing him news. Another person of his race, perhaps? But besides Lanius, I hadn't heard of any others being here.
Then I asked him a question I couldn't ignore.
"What is your last name?"
He tilted his head like an inquisitive bird."Halfwing."
My heart tightened. A familiar name.
I was about to press further when someone knocked. Shrik's face brightened, and he welcomed the visitor.
A woman entered wearing a patient's gown. Her long brown hair brushed her waist, and her expression was cold, almost aloof. But what drew my attention was not her face—it was the wing on her right side. A large, brown-feathered wing mirroring the one Shrik lacked.
She halted when she saw me, shock flickering in her eyes.
Shrik introduced me cheerfully, but she stammered out a stiff, awkward greeting. The difference between her tone now and her earlier gentle voice was like night and day. She practically fled to Shrik's side.
Kyle whispered in my mind, trying to make sense of the tension, but I already knew. I looked at the woman and asked quietly:
"…Lanius?"
Her lone wing flared wide, feathers bristling. That reaction alone confirmed everything.
Shrik blinked at me in confusion, but Lanius only shook her head furiously, trying to hide. It didn't work.
"Yes," I said, "I know her. We're in the same exploration group."I paused."…Though I didn't know she was a woman."
Kyle tried to defend himself by claiming he had never said Lanius was a man, which only made me grit my teeth. But arguing with him was pointless.
Shrik finally pieced everything together and let out a small laugh. Lanius, still unable to make eye contact, attempted to fold her trembling wing neatly behind her. It didn't help—she was bright red and visibly panicking.
Shrik apologized for her shyness. Apparently, she had trouble speaking to anyone outside her family and often hid behind armor and helmets to avoid social interaction. Hearing that somehow made a lot of her odd behaviors make sense.
Then one final question pressed itself forward.
"Shrik," I said, "since your last name is Halfwing… and hers is too… are you two related?"
Shrik squeezed Lanius's hand, and though she flinched, she didn't pull away.
"Yes," he said with a gentle smile. "We're family."
I nodded—of course. It all made sense now.
Then he added, almost shyly:
"To be exact… I'm her husband."
I froze.
Shrik Halfwing.Lanius Halfwing.Married.
I silently cursed every omen that always seemed to come true.