Bob salutes as I follow her out.
We pass Torric and Aspen in the hallway—Torric mid-argument with Finn about something, Aspen shaking his head. Torric clocks me, eyes narrowing like he’s assessing damage. I wave him off before he can say anything.
The village is small. Lived-in. Warm.
Smoke curls from chimneys. Kids run between houses, laughing. The smell of bread and something herbal drifts through the air.
And people notice me immediately.
Fantastic.
Respectful nods. Wide eyes. Some awe.
But not fear.
Because these are Kieran’s people. They trust his instincts.
A baker—older woman with flour on her apron—hands me a sweet bun with a shy smile. “For you, miss.”
I take it, surprised. “Thank you.”
She nods and disappears inside.
A mother pulls her child closer as we pass, but the kid whispers loudly, “She’s the wing lady, Mama.”
I freeze.
Revna smirks. “You’re already a legend.”
“I didn’t—”
“Doesn’t matter. You are.”
We’re halfway through the square when a little boy—maybe six or seven—walks straight up to me.
He’s got messy dark hair, dirt on his knees, and the kind of fearless curiosity only kids have.
“Is it true you have wings?” he asks.
I stare at him.
Revna raises an eyebrow, amused.
“I—” I glance at Revna.
She nods. “Go on.”
I swallow. Look back at the kid.
He’s waiting. Eyes wide. Hopeful.
Fuck it.
My shoulder blades warm as I let my wings flare—just a little. Light and shadow rippling softly behind me.
The kid’s face lights up like I just gave him the best gift in the world.
His mother gasps. A dozen people stop what they’re doing and stare.
