But I don’t feel it. No matter how much they insist that belief keeps them going, I can’t share it. To me, joining the Aviary doesn’t feel like finding purpose—it feels like erasing everything you once were. The Naming isn’t just a vow; it’s a surrender of your name, your past, and your identity. Although we are groomed for this moment from the day we are first called Fledglings, the ceremony is final. Whoever you were before doesn’t matter anymore; all that’s left is the Aviary’s mission.
I can see why some might find comfort in that. For people like Nyssa and Lark, who had no families or homes, the Aviary gave them everything—education, food, clothing, and something to strive for. For them, it’s not just survival; it’s the closest thing to belonging they’ve ever known.
But for me, it’s something else entirely.
There were countless reasons my father cast me out. My mother’s death, the way I resembled her more with each passing day, a living reminder of his grief. But it was my thirteenth birthday that became the final blow. I had yet to show even the faintest spark of summer’s heat—the power of the Sotiría bloodline. That was the breaking point.
Before my father handed me over to the Aviary, I had a home at thePalace of Sorrows. The royal tutors educated me, and I never wore the same clothes twice.
Most importantly, I had Kallias.
Thinking about my older brother makes my heart ache. The burning, throbbing pain of a wound allowed to fester too long. Despite being born to different mothers, we grew up as close as siblings could. The ache of separation hasn’t faded, even after ten years. Yet, living beyond the palace walls has shown me that he is the only thing I truly miss from my former life.
“I have to confess, I’m feeling a bit nervous.” Syrus’s gentle voice beside me pulls me back from the edge of yet another turbulent mood. “It’s strange having no idea what to expect.”
Syrus will make a perfect Songbird—an even better Owl, with how quiet and observant he is. He tucks a brunette curl behind his ear and offers a chagrined smile. I reach out and give his hand a comforting squeeze, pulling it away just as quickly when I notice Luci glaring at me from his other side.
“Does anyone know how they choose our names at the ceremony?” Mateo asks, and I turn back to the group.
“They pray to Notos for divine guidance and then carve it into your skin,” says a voice from behind me.
I watch as the faces of my cohort pale at the words, but a smile teases at the edge of my lips.
Becausethatvoice is only good for speaking one thing.
Bullshit.
Nyssa chokes on a laugh as she launches off the lounge, throwing herself into her brother’s waiting arms. The two of them could be twins for how similar they appear. All dark cinnamon curls, russet skin, and hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. He’s almost five years older than her, not that you can tell by the way he behaves.
“I missed you so much,” Nyssa exclaims, pulling him into an even tighter embrace.
“I guess I missed you a little,” Lark jokes, but the gentle warmth in his gaze as he looks down at her speaks the truth for him. He pins mewith those eyes and pouts, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Didn’t you miss me too, trouble?”
I huff a laugh and bat his hand away. “I’m rather disappointed you didn’t fall overboard on the journey back.”
Uneasiness curls within me as the group continues to talk about the ceremony, their laughter and excitement so at odds with my own feelings. How can they be so carefree when I feel like I’m standing on a cliff’s edge? Nervous energy bubbles in my chest, and my fingers tug at the folds of my gown as if the fabric can steady me.
I can’t focus on their words; the air feels heavy, pressing on my lungs, and their chatter sharpens my sense of not belonging. It’s as if they exist in a world beyond my reach—a place where smiles come effortlessly and nerves don’t coil into tangled knots. The feeling swells until I can’t take it.
Standing, I catch Nyssa glancing up, her brows rising in question. I meet her gaze but shake my head. “I’ll be back,” I mouth, the words stuck in my throat.
I don’t wait for her response. The promise of fresh air lures me to the curtains separating us from the main hall.
She nods and turns back to her brother, a smile lighting up her face as she leans toward him.
I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly, stepping through the curtains and out into the crowd. I’ve barely taken three steps toward the entrance when a muscular arm snakes around my waist, holding me in place. “Fucking Notos!” I curse, jolting as I’m pulled back against a firm body.
“Now, darling, is that any way to talk about our beloved god?”
The tension coiling my body eases at the sultry voice and the scent of the ocean filling the surrounding air.
“I’m sure he would feel honored.” I spin until I’m looking up at the man holding me in place.
Hair, such a dark blue it’s almost black in the dim lighting, falls in silken waves past his shoulders, framing a face no doubt carved in the likeness of the gods. Turquoise eyes fringed by lashes that have every woman in the Sorrows envious, and plump lips that smirk down at me.
“I know I’d certainly be honored if you spoke about me in such a way,” he says with a grin. Light lands on his sharp cheekbones from the movement, shimmering across the sapphire scales speckling his sun-kissed skin like freckles.
Kashton is an incorrigible flirt. I’ve never been certain if it’s because of his upbringing or part of his nature. He’s a nymphai, and was born from the union of a water nymph—a nature spirit with an affinity for the rivers and seas—and a tycheroi.
