Leina pov
The jungle awoke in a blaze of gold and song. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, scattering patterns across the ground like pieces of living light. Birds darted between branches, their cries echoing in the still morning air. But beneath all that beauty, Leina felt restless.
She could not stop staring at the mark on her wrist. It glowed faintly even in daylight, like sunlight trapped beneath her skin. When she touched it, warmth pulsed through her veins, not painful but deeply strange—like something ancient had awakened inside her, something that had waited for her all along.
Aethion watched her quietly. He had been standing by the stream for some time, his reflection rippling in the water like a shadow from another world. His wings caught the light, scattering faint silver glimmers over the leaves.
"You keep touching it," he said finally.
Leina lowered her hand, feeling slightly embarrassed. "It feels… alive. Like it's breathing with me."
"It is," Aethion replied. "The Dawn fire is not merely a mark. It is a living bond between light and flesh. It feeds on your emotions—your fear, your courage, your love."
She frowned. "So if I lose control of my feelings… it could control me?"
Aethion nodded. "Yes. That is why you must learn to master it before it masters you."
Leina's heart sank. "And how do I do that?"
He turned to face her fully, the calm power in his gaze steadying her trembling heart. "Through focus, through discipline—and through trust. Come."
He led her to an open space surrounded by tall ferns and vines that glowed faintly with morning dew. The air here felt different—still, as if holding its breath.
"This is where you will begin," he said.
Leina looked around nervously. "Begin what?"
"Your awakening."
She blinked. "You mean training?"
He smiled faintly. "If you wish to call it that."
Aethion stepped closer, raising his hand. "Close your eyes."
Leina hesitated, then obeyed.
"Listen," he said softly. "Do you hear the forest?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"What do you hear?"
"The birds, the wind, the water…"
"Good. Now listen deeper. Beneath the sound, there is something else. Something that connects everything—the rhythm of life itself."
Leina frowned, concentrating. At first, all she heard was the normal chorus of nature. But slowly, she began to sense it—the quiet pulse beneath it all, like a hidden heartbeat echoing through the world. It vibrated softly under her feet, in the leaves, even in her own chest.
"I feel it," she whispered.
"That is the essence of the world," Aethion said. "Every living thing shares that rhythm. The Dawn fire responds to it. When you learn to flow with it, your power will move as naturally as your breath."
Leina opened her eyes. "So I have to connect with it?"
"Yes. Try it. Focus your will on the mark. Let it feel what you feel."
She took a deep breath and looked down at her wrist. The mark shimmered faintly, responding to her heartbeat. She tried to steady her breathing, thinking of the rhythm she had felt in the ground. Then, slowly, warmth spread up her arm.
A gentle light began to bloom around her hand—soft, golden, and alive.
Leina gasped. "It's working!"
Aethion smiled slightly, though he did not move closer. "Good. Now, control it. Shape it with your mind."
She tried to focus, willing the light to stay steady. But the more she concentrated, the brighter it grew—until it began to swirl wildly, flickering like fire.
"I can't—" she gasped.
"Calm yourself," Aethion said firmly. "Breathe."
But fear gripped her. The light spun out of control, flashing hotter and hotter until it burst outward in a wave of heat that threw her backward. The blast sent leaves flying and scorched the earth around her.
Leina landed hard, gasping, her heart racing.
Aethion rushed forward, kneeling beside her. "You lost focus."
She groaned. "I nearly burned myself alive."
He gave a faint chuckle. "The Dawnfire is not gentle when provoked. It mirrors your spirit. When you fear, it becomes fire. When you trust, it becomes light."
Leina sat up slowly, brushing dirt from her arm. "So basically, it's a reflection of me."
"Yes. And like all reflections, it shows not only your strength, but your weakness."
She sighed, staring at the faint scorch marks on the ground. "Then I've got a lot to work on."
Aethion's gaze softened. "We all do."
They trained for hours. Aethion taught her how to control her breathing, how to ground her emotions, how to let the light flow through her without fighting it. Sometimes the mark glowed bright and steady, and other times it flared wildly, forcing her to start over. But with every attempt, she felt herself growing stronger—more aware, more connected.
At one point, she managed to hold the light long enough to form a small flame in her palm, warm but harmless. She looked up at Aethion, eyes wide with wonder. "I did it!"
He nodded proudly. "You did. The first spark is always the hardest."
Leina smiled for the first time that day, a genuine, radiant smile that made Aethion's heart stir. For a brief moment, he forgot the centuries of exile, the battles fought, the heavens lost. In her joy, he saw something pure—something worth every fall.
By nightfall, the jungle was once again a realm of shadows and whispers. Leina sat by the stream, exhausted but content. Her mark glowed softly, a gentle pulse like a heartbeat.
Aethion sat beside her, his expression calm, though his eyes occasionally drifted toward the stars above.
"Do you ever miss it?" she asked quietly.
He turned to her. "Miss what?"
"The place you came from. The skies."
Aethion was silent for a moment. Then he said softly, "Sometimes. But there are things here that even the heavens cannot offer."
Leina met his gaze. "Like what?"
He hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Like the courage of a mortal heart."
She blushed slightly, looking away. "You sound like you've known many humans."
"Enough to understand that their strength often hides in their fragility," he said. "And perhaps that is what makes them beautiful."
Silence fell between them again, but it was a peaceful silence, filled with unspoken understanding. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of flowers and wet leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird sang.
Leina lay back, staring at the stars. "Aethion," she whispered, "what if I fail? What if I can't control this?"
He looked down at her, his expression firm but kind. "Then I will catch you, as I always will. But I do not believe you will fail. The Dawn fire chose you for a reason."
His words wrapped around her like a promise.
But far away, in the dark reaches of the forest, something stirred. The same shadow that had watched them before now crept closer, drawn by the energy she had released. Its whispers slid through the trees, cold and cruel.
"She awakens," it hissed. "And with her, the end of balance begins."
Back at the stream, Leina's eyes fluttered closed. The mark on her wrist pulsed once, brighter than before, as if in warning.
Aethion glanced at it, his jaw tightening. He could sense the darkness drawing near—but he would not wake her. Not tonight. She had earned her rest.
Instead, he looked toward the jungle's edge, his wings slowly unfolding. A faint silver light rippled across them as he whispered, almost to himself:
"If the shadows come for her… they will find me waiting."
The night wind carried his vow into the Trees, and for a moment, the jungle seemed to bow before it.
For in the heart of light, even fallen wings still remember how to rise.