Swooping through the Iron Veil felt like cannonballing into a
vat of molten lead. Aethelgard was all about that thin, sterile
vibe—like sniffing cold marble mixed with a whiff of ancient
incense. But once I broke through the gray clouds, bam! The
air hit me like a wall of oily grit, drenched in burning coal
and rain. My lungs, which felt like they'd been wrung out
moments ago, finally breathed easy.
I exhaled—a mix of a sob and a sigh of relief escaping my lips.
Under my battle-worn tunic, my indigo wings gave a rebellious
thud, eager to break free. They guzzled the dense air,
causing their violet glow to light up the falling soot like a
dazzling purple snowstorm.
No more fragile Elite here. In this realm, I was the top dog,
the apex predator.
6
I landed on a rusted iron rooftop in the Sector 4 Slums. The
corrugated metal groaned under my boots, but I didn't care about
the noise. Down here, the constant hiss of steam and the roar of
the factories drowned out everything.
Below me, the
"Walkers
"
moved through the streets like ghosts. They
wore ragged respirators and heavy goggles to protect their eyes
from the acidic rain. They looked up at the shadows of the floating
islands with hatred, never knowing that one of the
"Gods
"
was
standing right above them.
Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the street three blocks away.
A high-pressure steam pipe in a worker's dormitory had burst.
Scalding white vapor screamed into the night, and the building—a
rickety structure of salvaged steel—began to lean dangerously.
"Help! My son is still inside!"
a woman shrieked, her voice barely
audible over the roar of the steam.
7
I didn't have a moment to ponder life as the Minister's
daughter. With a snap of my wings, a dazzling violet halo
burst forth, and I rocketed off the roof, leaving a
dazzling purple firework trail behind me.
The heat near the dormitory was fierce enough to melt
lead faster than a hot knife through butter. The Walkers
were in full panic mode, spooked by the fiery meteorlike figure swooping down from above. I dove straight
into the heart of the steam cloud like a comet on a
mission.
My wings packed a punch, their strength epic. With a
single mighty sweep, I parted the steam like Moses with a
flair for the dramatic. There he was, a boy cowering
beneath a fallen iron beam on the third floor, as the
floorboards sizzled like a skillet on high heat.
I burst through the window, my wings acting like a
superhero's armor against the shower of glass.
8
I scooped up the little guy, his tiny body quivering as I held
him close. He glanced up, eyes as big as saucers behind his
shattered goggles. He caught a glimpse of my face—violet
flames dancing in my eyes and my skin glowing like a neon
sign.
"An angel?" he breathed.
"A ghost,
" I replied, my voice as scratchy as a radio stuck
between stations, thanks to the altitude sickness I'd been
toting around all day.
Forget the stairs—I went all action hero, crashing through
the wall and taking a flying leap. We landed smoothly, and I
gently nudged him toward his mom.
The crowd of Walkers stood frozen, jaws on the floor.
One brave soul edged closer, fingers twitching toward my
hood. "Who are you? Are you from... Up There?"
I stayed mum. Couldn't risk it. One peek under my hood and
the High Council would be on my tail faster than a cat on a
laser pointer. I spread my wings and shot back into the
smog, vanishing before they could even gasp.
9
There I was, perched like a bird on the arm of a giant, rusted crane,
my chest doing the cha-cha. The daring rescue had been a win, but
my heart was pounding like a rock concert.
Then it hit me—a shiver creeping up my neck like an icy spider. I
squinted through the smog, eyes climbing to where the clouds dared
to dance.
And there he was. Lake. Perched high, perfectly still on a gravityspine, like a distant star. But those wings—oh, I knew them too well.
He'd watched it all—the rescue, the big reveal of my
"
mutation" to the
Walkers. Yet, no alarm, no Sky-Patrol, just sitting in the shadows, his
white feathers a silent, judgmental streak against the gray.
He was a vulture, I thought with a bitter taste. Just biding his time,
waiting for me to tire out so he could swoop in and drag me back
for the Clipping. I loathed him. His flawlessness was infuriating, and the
fact he was the only one who saw my life unfold made my skin
crawl.
10.