Untamed
Untamed
I had never seen a Grower before. But the sudden vibrant flash of green and purple caught my attention, standing out against the white of the buildings on the other side of the street.
My stomach knots up. He’s going to get caught. I scan the area, but no one seems to have noticed the new foliage in the previously empty windowbox or the short boy walking away, not yet.
I was already running late, now I’ll be later still, but I dart across the street, dodging a delivery craft and ducking out of the way of a hoverbulance that zips by, sirens flashing.
The boy is no longer in sight when I emerge from traffic, but a quick calculation of his velocity tells me he likely ducked into the alley up above. As I stalk by, I wrap my fingers around the vining purple flowers and yank them out of the white sand of the windowbox. The other possibility is he’s hiding in one of the shops on this street.
None of them, though, are open this early, and this district is known for being inhospitable to the Untamed. I round the corner and stop in my tracks, purple flower dangling limply in my hand.
The alley is empty. Impossible. It’s not like there’s some dark corner the Grower could hide in, the alley, like the rest of Imperiopolis, is shining white in the early dawn and meticulously clean. Except.
My Tracking the Untamed 101 professor would be pleased that I notice the faint, yellow powder on the ground. I bend down and run my finger across the concrete. My finger comes away yellow, and I sneeze. Pollen. The Grower did come down here, he must be capable of faster speeds than I estimated.
My watch starts buzzing, and I swipe the screen to stop the alarm. If I were at the Academy like I should be at this time, that meant I needed to head to Opening Symposium. I’m going to need a good story why I’m late. I turn around. Maybe I underestimated this Grower. He’s royalty, after all. He can likely take care of himself.
I turn to leave the alley and continue to the Academy. That’s when I see him. He’s clinging to the side of the building with the help of some vines.
You duffer, I tell myself. For somebody who knows how to fly, you sure forget to look up.
He knows I’ve spotted him and his green eyes widen with terror. One green-skinned hand loosens its grip on the vines. He waves it towards me, and before I know it, the vines have wrapped around me. I can hardly breath and I can’t move my arms. The weight of the vegetation brings me to my knees. Above, the sky starts spinning and the walls of the alley close in around me.
I’m dying at the hands of a Grower. Ironic, in more ways than one.
“I’m here to help you,” I wheeze.
“You can’t lie to me, Cadet.” He tries to sound bold, but his voice tremors. Orange veins branch through the vines wrapped around me.
“I’m a Sympathizer.”
“Anybody can claim that name.” The vines grow tighter.
“I’m Avim.” I confess. My last defense. The orange lines pause. The Grower hops down from his viney perch with grace any Avim would envy. He scans my face, looking for signs that I am who I say I am.
He circles behind me. My heartbeat picks up even more as he passes into my blind spot, fighting instincts learned at the Academy... don’t let your enemy get behind you. But he’s not my enemy. He’s just a boy, scared that I’m not who I say I am. He’s more than that, as a Grower he very well could be my king someday.
The vines at my back loosen, and I know what he’s looking for.
“So.” He comes back to stand in front of me. “You’re a Tamed Avim.”
I wince. “Yes.”
“Why were you following me?”
“Because you were drawing attention to yourself.” I drop the wilted purple flower on the grown. His eyes follow it.
“This city is so white. It needs some color.”
“A flower is not worth dying for.”
He turns away from me. The vines slither off of me and shrink back to him like a kicked dog.
“That’s debateable,” he mutters.
I blink, and for a moment, I don’t see him as a Grower, don’t see him as Untamed, I just see a scared little boy in a strange city. I glance down at my watch and wince. I’m going to need a whopper of an excuse for why I’m late.
“Look, we can debate later.” I give him my cousin’s address, one district away from the market district. “Go to Jadon, tell him Corinthia sent you, stay out of sight, and please, no more flowers.”
He nods, and we part ways.
Desperately, I brush little twigs and bits of leaf off my white Cadet uniform coat, sneering at the insignia, a white iscosoles triangle outlined in black thread, then rush the rest of the way to the Academy. I miss all of Opening Symposium, but make it just in time for my first class, Species Identification.
“You okay?” Lana whispers, taking her usual seat next to me and offering me a mint.
“It’s just been a rough morning,” I tell my friend.
“You can say that again,” Isaac brushed his curls from his face before taking the chair on the other side of me. “Everything seems to be going wrong today. Must be a full moon.”
“Isaac!” Lana chides. “Superstition!”
“Oops. Sorry.”
The classroom quiets as Professor Giese stands at the front.
“Good morning, class. You should all have seen last week’s scores posted in the courtyard by now.” She’s silent for a moment.
I panic. I have no idea what I scored. I aimed for a barely passing grade, no need to raise suspicion. But what if it was too low?
“As I have said before,” Giese continued. “I do not grade on a curve. Because failing to identify an Untamed can have far more drastic consequences than simply a poor test grade.” She scans the room. “That’s why we’re going to spend class reviewing.”
Groans erupt around the classroom, including a bitter one from Isaac, who I’m sure already aced the test.
“Isaac,” she snaps.
He looks up.
“List five traits of an Avim.”
“Wings, pale skin, blue eyes, um...” he trailed off.
“Excessively hungry.” Giese prompted, ticking it off on her fingers.
“Claustaphobic,” she finished. A shiver like the brushing of a feather runs up and down my spine. Thankfully, Isaac stays oblivious to the pale-skinned, blue-eyed Avim sitting right beside him. I thank the skies for my one ancestor that married a Dryas, the only reason my eyes and skin are just dark enough to blend in.
“Sebastian. What are three traits of a Lumina?”
“Fear of the dark, uh, the presence of static electricity, and reflective eyes.”
I stay unnoticed until the end of the class, when Giese’s dark grey eyes fix on me.
“Corinthia. What are three traits of a Grower?”
“I thought you said Growers were extinct?” I say, clenching my fists under the table. This wasn’t on the test.
Giese looks at me with profound disappointment. She turns to write on the board, UNTAMED, then underlines it.
“The Untamed do not follow the rules of science. So , while Imperial scientists have declared Growers extinct, you Cadets still need to know how to identify them. In case they do something as unscientific as rise from the dead. In which case, you must be prepared to punish them for breaking the laws of science.”
I carefully measure my breaths and weigh the risk of my next decision.
“Three characteristics of Growers are green skin on their hands, green eyes, and a love for color. They can be defeated by keeping them away from water or sunlight.”
The words churn my stomach, the thought of killing a Grower is nauseating. But I can’t risk anybody suspecting me of being Sympathetic.
“Very good, Cadet Corinthia.”
I sit with Lana and Isaac at lunch, stirring my spoon in some colorless, tasteless, food that may be nutrituous but sure isn’t enjoyable.
“Hey, where is Abbie?” I look around for the girl with wavy brown hair and a white smile that
seemed to light up a room.
“Did she not want to sit with us today?” Abbie could sit with the popular kids if she wanted, but more often sat with fringe kids like Isaac, who was too nerdy to fit in with the in-crowd, Lana, who had a reputation, and me, who didn’t hand with the in-crowd for obvious reasons....they hated the Untamed. Of course they didn’t know I was Avim...but I couldn’t risk them finding out.
Isaac bites his lip and exchanges glances with Lana.
“She wasn’t at Symposium.”
Lana moves to put an arm around me, but I turn to face her so she can’t touch me without making things awkward.
“What happened?”
“Abbie...she graduated.”
I take in a sharp breath. “When? How?”
“This weekend. She was working on an assignment on the Wild North Waste, chasing down a group of Sympathetic. I’m sorry, Cor. I know you were close.”
I feel water gathering in the corners of my eyes, like a spring in the desert outside Imperiopolis, my heart cracking like chapped skin, the rough, dry edges digging into the raw, exposed flesh beneath.
“Why...” I whispered to myself.
“There will be a service outside after classes end today.” Isaac said, head bowed respectfully.
As soon as the last bell rings, I hurry to the courtyard to pay respects to Abbie. When Admiral Kunz steps into my path, I stumble to a halt so I don’t crash into him.
“Come to my office, Cadet Corinthia.”
“But--”
“Now.”
I follow, head down, a cold knot growing in my stomach. What is going on? What do they know? In the office of Admiral Kunz, I shakily take a seat. This is the end, I’m convinced. They’ve found out about Abbie, and Jadon, and I , and all the Untamed we’ve helped.
“Why were you late this morning?”
Oh. In the face of being discovered as a Sympathizer, being tardy seems like such a small thing. I recite the story I made up, a carefully delivered pack of lies that can’t easily be verified.
“On my way to the tube station this morning, I observed a hoverbulance having technical difficulties.” I fold my hands in my lap. “Of course, I stopped to offer assistance. It was a simple fix...the polarizing capacitor needed realignment. But it made me late for the tube, so I walked the rest of the way. My apologies for being late. In the future, I shall be more punctual.”
The Admiral makes a note. “I shall forgive your tardiness, since it was caused by an act of community service. You are free to go, Cadet.”
I breath a sigh of relief the second I escape his office. I don’t live where he thinks I live, and I don’t take the tube. My Academy-granted housing allowance and tube passes are what funds the safehouse Jadon and I run. Tube passes fetch a fortune on the black market these days, and Cadet passes are some of the more valuable ones. So I get up early and walk to the Academy. My shoes squeak on the tile as I rush to the courtyard. But it’s empty. Only the faint smell of smoke lingers in the air. Abbie is well and truly gone. I walk to the Wall of Memory and find her plaque. At the moment, it’s just a piece of paper. Eventually, they’ll replace it with an engraved metal plate.
“May you rest safe in the arms of the Untamed God,” I whisper, running my fingers along where the paper curls up a little, trying to smooth it flat.
I spend the walk home vowing I will not live forever in a world where funerals are fifteen minute affairs that people rush to get over. I unlock the door to the small, non-descript house that my cousin owns. It’s tall and thin, squished together with all the other old houses in this part of the city. It’s also very, very illegal. I walk through the living room and into the kitchen. The kitchen table has two water glasses on it, one mostly empty, the other drained dry. We have guests.
“Jadon?” I call softly. The house is still and quiet.
“Your cousin is out at the moment,” a voice says behind me.
I whirl, scanning the living room. It looks the same as it always does, bookshelf by the stairs, lumpy old couch that I sleep on, ancient upright piano that’s somehow still in tune, covered with houseplants. Then one of the houseplants moves. I stiffle a gasp as I make out the shape of a small boy sitting on top of the piano. It’s the Grower from this morning.
“Please get off of my piano,” I squeak out, never having cause to use that particular sentence before. He obliges, gently climbing to the floor, trailing foliage behind him.
“Any idea when Jadon will be back?” I ask, like I have conversations with Growers every day.
“He said he shouldn’t be long,” the boy said, refilling the empty glass from the dining room table at the sink and gulping it down. “Do you know if there’s a safe way to go outside? I’m feeling a little droopy.”
I take him upstairs, to Jadon’s room and show him the trapdoor in the paneling on the sloped ceiling.
“Stay out of sight,” I say, standing on my cousin’s bed and pressing the release lever disguised as a knothole. “Be alert. And if there’s any danger, shut the trapdoor immediately.”
The boy sits criss-cross in the parallelogram of sunshine the trapdoor lets fall on the bed’s navy-and -brown quilt, and lifts his face and deep-green palms to the sky. He looks so happy, so peaceful, it’s hard to believe he’s been through all he has...the hunting of his family, hiding either in the burning desert to the south or the freezing, cloudy Northern Wastes, constantly on the run and in fear. Yet here, soaking in the presence of the Untamed God, this little boy looks...happy even. Tiny, light blue flowers speckle his hair. I slip out of the room and leave him in the still and quiet. Jadon arrives at the house not long after, his usual tacit, stern self. We don’t talk much, because we don’t have much to say. Instead, we fix and eat the evening meal in comfortable silence. It’s only when we’re washing up, and I’m confidant the young Grower is out of earshot, that I tell Jadon about Abbie.
“The thing is...” I pass him a freshly washed plate. “They said she graduated while fighting Sympathizers.
Jadon wipes it dry thoughtfully.
“That is strange. Why would she fight Sympathizers? Why would Sympathizers fight her?”
“Do you think there’s a gap in our network?” I run my fingers through the soap suds mounded in the sink.
“That... or a traitor.” Jadon sets the plate down hard on the counter and looks at me. “This is not good.”
I wring out a washrag, letting the warm water drip from my knuckles.
“We have one of the last surviving Growers on our hands. Not to mention molting season is approaching. There could not possibly be a worse time for the network to be unstable.”
“You know what this means,” Jadon takes the washrag from me before I wring it to shreds, and starts wiping the table.
“What?”
“We have to bring Rowan to the Old Capital ourselves.”
“There’s no way-!” I protest.
“If he falls into the hands of the Emperor, we’re done. Who knows when -or if- another Grower will come along?”
“But the Academy–”
“Who are you loyal to, Cor, the Academy or the boy who will be king of the Untamed?"
I bite my lip. “The king, of course.”
“Good. We leave tomorrow.”
I turn away, leaving him to finish the dishes, and head upstairs. There are two rooms upstairs. Jaden’s is on the left, above the living room, and a storage room is on the right, above the kitchen and dining room. The storage room unofficially doubles as a guest room, when we have people to hide. It too, has an escape hatch to the roof. But the secret room is secret even to many of our guests. This is where we’ve decided Rowan will spend the night. I press my hands against the riser of the second-to-top stair and slid it an inch to the right, until I hear the soft click of the latch. Then I grab the overhang of the tread and swing the top section of the staircase up. I slide down the rope ladder into the dark space below, trying to ignore the threads of fear that snake up my spine from being in a small enclosed space. Rowan is cocooned in blankets and quilts where the stairs come down into the space. Stalks of faintly glowing white flowers surround him.
I put my hand on his forehead. “You comfy?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You have everything you need?”
“Jaden showed me where the water is.”
The house’s pipes run under the stairs, and whoever had built this hiding spot had tapped the waterline and added a spigot. Smehow, they never got around to adding a drain, which also would have been helpful. But with how thirsty Rowan was, it made sense to keep him under the stairs. Additionally, he would be safer if, for some reason, there was a raid during the night. I sigh, wondering what it would be like to live without the possibility of raids in the night. The couch feels lumpier than ever when I settle down on it.
"Dratted molting season," I mutter, tossing and turning to get into a comfortable sleeping position. When it was just Jadon and I , we would open a few of the windows at night. Of course, with the types of guests we entertained, we kept them closed the rest of the time. The heat in the house is oppressive. At some point, I kick off my blanket and lay with just a sheet around me, which helps a little. But even after it starts to cool down, the thoughts in my head keep me awake. We’re going to the Old Capital tomorrow. And if that’s not dangerous enough, through open, rocky wasteland, we’re traveling with the future king of the Untamed, the Emperor’s, and by extention the Acadamy’s, number one enemy. The two of us. A merchant and a Cadet. It’s a fool’s errand.
I’d feel better is Abbie was with us. But even she, a far better trained Cadet than me, perished on a far less dangerous assignment. At some point, I get a wet rag from the kitchen to distract myself from the thoughts and to fight the heavy heat. I fall asleep thinking of Abbie.
***
Jadon shakes me awake early the next morning. And by early, I mean, before I normally get up, which most people already consider early. Rowan’s awake too, and eating at the kitchen table. Jadon hands me a bowl of porridge.
“Where did we get strawberries?” I ask, sleepily. Jadon looks at Rowan. The boy blushes a little.
“They’re very good, but save the rest of your energy for the journey,” he orders. Jadon’s clearly feeling bossy, since he doesn’t even let me rinse my bowl before handing me a pack and dragging me out the door. I grab my Cadet coat and run my fingers though my hair, trying to look presentable. The streets are deserted, and we hurry through the city towards the west gate. Then Jadon takes an unexpected turn.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“There’s no way we can get him,” my cousin jerks a thumb at Rowan, “past a gate Cadet.”
“He can put his hands in his pockets?”
“And shut his very recognizable green eyes?” he shook his head. “Too risky.”
“What about through there?” Rowan interrupted, pointing to a wide area of green visible in patches in between the buildings.
“The terrafarms? That might work. We’d have to cross Canal Street, though.” Rowan’s green eyes widen, though, when he sees Canal Street, water streaming through a wide concrete channel, the last street before the terrafarms and the open desert beyond. “I thought you meant perhaps, a street that ran alongside a canal. Not that--”
“Yep. It’s a actual canal. How well can you swim?”
The boy leaned forward and put his hand in the water. A dark green, slimy looking, bulbous leaf emerged from the Canal, followed by two more.
“We don’t have to swim. Come on.” He hops on to the leaf, and it quivers, sending ripples radiating through the water, before setting under his weight.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a lot bigger than you,” Jadon looked warily at the leaves. Rowen reached out and stroked the leaf. Before our eyes, the edges of the leaf curled outwards, expanding by several inches.
I sputter at my cousin. “You’re Avim. There’s no way you way more than Rowan.”
He looks up at me from where he’s kneeling on his leaf.
“I don’t see you coming aboard.”
I roll my eyes and plop down on my leaf, setting it rocking violently and splashing water on my trousers. Rowen kicks his leaf away from the concrete bank and his leaf begins drifting across the canal. Jadon and I follow.
“Hey!” we hear someone call. I look back and see a figure on the bank behind us, hands on their hips. Then they turn and run into the city.
“Hurry, we’ve got to hurry,” I say, frantically splashing with my hands. Finally, our leaves bump into the opposite bank. I grab the lip of the concrete and haul myself up. Jadon joins me. Rowan takes longer.
“Rowan, we’ve got to get out of here!” Jadon reaches a hand down to the boy. The Grower is scooping up handfuls of water and slurping them down. I look away, disgusted. Knowing just a fraction of the stuff that winds up in this canal, I wouldn’t drink it if someone paid me to. Rowan takes Jadon’s hand, and I grab him by the belt, and together, we hoist the boy up. Then we set off at a hunched run between rows of bushes in the terrafarm. After several hundred feet, we can see the bright light of the desert through the branches. Jadon screeches to a stop and throws his arm across our path.
“Back!”
We duck into the bushes with a frantic rustle of leaves.
“Cadets,” he warns, breathing heavily.
“I’ll deal with them,” I say, straightening my Cadet coat, frowning at the green stains Canal Street had left on it. Then I freeze, my eyes catching on something. “Or not.”
Jadon follows my gaze to where an unused zipwagon lay in a clearing. I sneak closer. Nobody’s around the grounded vehicle. I pull from my pocket a Cadet masterkey.
“I’m appropriating this vehicle,” I mutter, slipping the card into the power slot and turning it. The zipwagon’s motor whirs a little, then sputters out.
“Pity,” Jadon frowns, rubbing his shoulder. “It would have been helpf–”
“I’m not done,” I say, flipping open the hood. I trace all the electrical wires until I find what I’m looking for.
“Faulty breaker,” I say, grinning and flipping a switch. I grab a twig from the ground and jammed next to the braker switch so it couldn’t turn off. When I turn the masterkey again, the motor whirs to life, and the vehicle bobs into the air.
“I’ll drive.” Jadon says.
I put my hands on my hips to argue, then sigh. “As long as I get a turn.”
Rowan and I climb into the back of the wagon and pull the wagon’s tarp over us. With an abrupt jolt, Jadon lurches forward.
“Careful,” I hiss.
His driving evens out, as the dappled sunlight on the tarp turns into a solid, green rectangle. The muffled sounds of Cadet voices drift in...I recognize them from the Acadamy, though I don’t know their names. Jadon says something about specimen collecting at a neighboring oasis.
“Looks like you already have something in your wagon.” I hear footsteps, and suddenly a silhouette looms over the wagon. I freeze, blood pounding in my ears. Next to me, I feel something prickle, and I remember Rowan’s thorny vines.
“It’s a load of fertilizer for the oasis.” Jadon explains.
As the Cadets wave us past, I don’t know whether to be relived or insulted that we passed as manure. The desert sun beats down on the tarp and the temperature rises alarmingly fast.
“Jadon, are we out of sight yet?”
“A little father, Cor.”
Sweat trickles down my neck.
“Alright,” Jadon says a while later, pulling the tarp back.
Even the scorching desert wind feels good. I squint, as the midmorning sun reflects off the white sand, and pull myself to a sitting position. Then I see Rowan. He’s pale and his skin is dry. Brown withered thorns surround him.
“Uh, Jaden?”
He turns around and takes in the situation, handing me his canteen, then increasing the speed on the zip wagon to an entirely suspicious one.
“If he can hang on until the next oasis,” he mutters.
I pull the tarp back over part of the wagon to create some shade, holding it down with one hand and holding the canteen to Rowan’s mouth with my other. Rowan’s eyes open a crack and his hands fumble to take the canteen. I take a second to tie down the tarp, then press the back of my hand to Rowen’s head. Still dangerously cool and dry. Pulling my own canteen from my bag, I splash the water onto his skin, desperate to cool him down. Thorns dig into my skin as I pull the dead vines away from the small boy.
The Grower’s cracked lips part. “Mom?” he whimpers.
“Jadon, he’s delirious,” I report.
“Come on, faster,” Jadon urges the zipwagon, trying to get the farm vehicle to go faster. But the already janky machine protests, and with a loud pop and a blue flash, plows into the scorching desert sand and rolls, over and over.
I throw my body over Rowan as the white sky trades places with the white sand and the world spins. Then everything goes black.
***
I wake up to pain everywhere. “Where’s Rowan?” I gasp.
“Right next to you,” Jadon’s voice says from somewhere I can’t see. I feel a small hand slip into mine. I turn my head, despite the dizziness it causes me, to look at him. He’s lucid, but looked exhausted. He needs water soon. Reaching up to probe my scalp, my hand comes away with flakes of dried blood.
“What’s happened since the crash?” I ask through a mouth that feels as dry as sandpaper.
“Well, we’ve been spotted by Cadets,” Jadon informs me from where he’s busy doing something on the other side of the upturned wagon that Rowen and I are sheltered under.
“And of course, of all possible times, now is when my molting occurs.”
At the mention of molting, I realize the pain I’m feeling isn’t just in my head, it’s in my back too. I sit up and roll my shoulders.
“Do you know what molting is?” I ask Rowan.
He nods.
“Jadon, how far along are you?” I call to the other side of the wagon. Instead of answering, he comes around where I can see him, and shows me his back. Feathers peek out of long lumps on his shoulders. I groan. It will take several hours for him to be able to fly. And if we were to pluck his wings out before the roots harden, like we usually do, to hide them from the Cadets, we would have to wait at least an hour before they’re out far enough.
I lean my head back against the now-vertical floor of the zipwagon and shut my eyes.
“How far away are the Cadets?”
“I’d say about fifteen minutes.”
“Rowen still needs medical attention for his heatstroke and dehydration, but can’t do any Growing. You and I are molting, so there’s no possible way they’ll miss the fact that we’re Untamed. We have no transportation, no water, and nowhere we can get to that will be safe. What are we going to do?” I run my fingers though my bloodcaked hair.
“Pray?” offered Rowan.
“We don’t have time for that. The Untamed God already knows we’re in trouble, so it doesn’t matter if we pray or not.”
“But if we don’t take time for Him, how is it fair to expect Him to help us out?”
“I guess we don’t have any other options.” Jadon says, wincing against the molting pain. “Let the Grower pray.”
“Majestic Untamed One,” Rowan began.
I close my eyes out of respect as he prays, but nothing’s going to happen. Nothing’s happened for years as Untamed have been chased, killed, or Tamed out of existence. Science has taken over, and the laws are inevitable.
“Are they?” An unfamiliar voice whispers in my head. “Who wrote the laws of science?”
I think, but realize I don’t know the answer.
“I did.” The voice answers for me. “Science is Mine to do with as I like.”
“Show me, then.”
“Ah, daughter of mine. I already have. But, because I love you, I will show you again. Open your eyes, my child.”
I do, even though I’m vaguely aware that Rowen is still praying.
“Look up.”
I do, and see nothing besides the endless white sky. Then something wet hits my cheek. At first I think my head is bleeding again, but as more and more drops fall, I realize it’s raining. It hasn’t rained in the Imperial Lands for years, not since the days when the Untamed walked openly. Yet the rain keeps coming down in torrents, drowning out Rowen’s voice. Rowen stops speaking, and crawls out from under the wagon, staring in awe.
“How is rain going to help us?” Jadon wondered.
“Like this,” whispered Rowen, plunging his hands under the sand.
He sat there for long moments, the rain plastering his hair and his clothes to his body. Then, green tendrils sprout out of the ground, curl upwards, and sprout leaves that tremble as the water droplets hit them. Behind me I hear a metal rattle. The stick that I used to keep the breaker off in the zipwagon has grown thicker, sprouted roots, and is branching as it shoots up to ths sky.
The tendrils cover the ground and burst open into yellow, blue, and purple flowers.
“How are flowers going to help us, Rowan?” I say, echoing Jadon’s question.
“Let me try something.” Rowan ignores my question and makes a hand motion indicating I should turn around. His hands are cold when he places them on my back, and the pain running alongside my spine intensifies. I almost pull away, but grit my teeth instead. There’s one final burst of pain, and then I see what’s he’s done.
My wings have grown, faster than they ever have, and almost glow, they are so brilliantly white.
“Whoa...” Jadon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Want to try that on me?”
Rowan nods. Jadon’s unprepared for the pain and screams, but then it’s over, and his cool grey wings are fully grown as well, with solid nerve endings.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, flexing his wings a few times, while eyeing the Cadets, who have been slowed by the rain but still pressing their way toward us.
“Not you.” The Untamed God’s voice murmured in my ear. “I have different plans for you.”
I look longingly at the sky. Even with the rain, it would be so easy to just fly away.
“Do you trust me, my daughter?”
I hesitate, then nod.
“Come, help me carry Rowan.” Jadon yells at me, looking at the approaching Cadets.
“I have to stay,” I tell Jadon, not meeting his eyes.
“Cor–”
“The Untamed God said so.”
“Rowan weighs too much for me to carry on my own,” Jadon protested.
“Tell your cousin I will keep him aloft.”
“Jadon. Trust Him, okay?”
Jadon gives me a look, then wraps his arms around Rowan. “You sure you don’t want to come with us?”
I shake my head. “Go!”
Jadon makes a face, but takes to the sky, Rowan in tow. He looks surprised, I am too a little bit– we have to be careful how much weight we carry when we fly.
“Without Me, your wings wouldn’t carry you alone.”
The Cadets are close enough I can hear their voices.
“Okay,” I say, wings twitching. “I’ve stayed. Can I go now?”
“Not yet.”
I stand in the patch of flowers in the middle of the desert., rain continuing to beat down on me, as the Cadets approach. I squint, looking at their faces.
“Lana?” I whisper to myself. And the Cadet next to her...yes, it was Issac. Instinctively I pull my wings in tight, make myself small.
“No more hiding.”
“But– ”
“Are you ashamed of who I made you to be?”
I sigh, weary and tired. “Am I being punished for joining the Acadamy?”
There’s silence.
I know the moment Lana recognizes me. She stops. Isaac looks from her to me and glares.
“Traitor,” he spits.
“Can I go now?” I wordlessly ask the Untamed God as Isaac grabs my arm.
Still nothing. My instinct are screaming at me to fight, my body is trembling uncotrollaby.
Lana slaps me across the face.
“You lied to us. How dare you.”
There’ a harsh click as Isaac snaps cold chains around my wrists. I know better than to expect mercy from these two, but their anger at me is greater than I’ve seen before. There’s a flash of steel in Lana’s hand, and Issac shoves me to the ground, where I get a mouthful of leaves and sand.
“No, please,” I plead, spitting grit and vegetation out of my mouth.
“Your Untamed God can do nothing for you now, beast.” Isaac snarls.
There’s a flash of pain in my shoulders, and I feel something crack as Lana saws through the cartilage in my left wing. Blood runs down my back.
“Where are you now, Untamed One? Is this what I get for following you?” I pray. He’s been silent long enough that I don’t expect an answer. Pain flashes in my eyes, a hideous mosaic of dark and light pulsing spots, as Lana sets to work on my other wing.
“You were not wrong to join the Academy.”
I gasp in relief at the familiar voice.
“You were wrong when you became loyal to the Academy. Which is why you are being disciplined.”
“So I am being punished.”
“No. Disciplined.” The Untamed God corrected. “You have sat under the discipline of the Academy long enough. Now it’s My turn.”
“You have an Academy? Where is it?”
. . . . .
About the Author: D. E. Flaming is a passionate young writer from the West Coast who loves perfectly sharpened pencils, random facts, and indie music. She mostly writes informational articles, but she is full of stories and has a few fiction projects up her sleeve. When she’s not writing, she’s making lists, sewing, drawing, talking to interesting people, and blogging about the journey of art and creativity on her blog Flight Patterns.
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