The three men step away from me, their heads bending close as they speak in harsh whispers. I worry my bottom lip as I watch them.
Steal three items of significance and return to the Aviary. Do not get caught. Do not be seen.
That was the order. My one ultimate test.
And I followed it perfectly…but maybe I took this too far.
Like anywhere else, there’s a hierarchy in the Aviary.
Fledglingis the term used for the students of the order, those undergoing training before the Naming ceremony, where they become a Songbird and can take on missions across the Empyrieos. The Songbirds are scouts, spies, and thieves. The order embedded a network of them within the Sorrows and in the lands beyond the Solorai Sea. They observe and listen to the composition of songs throughout the kingdoms, reporting everything they discover. Next are the Nightwings; like the Songbirds, they’re also tasked with unveiling the secrets of the Empyrieos, only they have a deadlier skill set at their disposal. The Owls are our knowledge-keepers, recording all the information the Aviary receives from far and wide while serving as advisors. At the pinnacle of the order, the Eagle reigns supreme.
In the wake of the God War, one of my ancestors established theAviary. As new kingdoms rose from the chaos and destruction, he believed—for our cluster of islands to prosper—we needed to hold an advantage. That advantage was knowledge.
The order was born from this belief, the idea taking flight from the significance of the sky’s feathered creatures in those early years as they became a necessity of life in the Sorrows. From correspondence between the kingdoms to tracking incoming storms and hunting schools of fish, they played a vital role in our people’s survival. According to our beliefs, Notos, god of the South and Summer Wind, sent his winged companions as a blessing.
A gift.
Perhaps if the gods were so concerned about our survival, they wouldn’t have started a fucking war.
I blink away the thought in time to spot the minuscule upward twitch at the corner of Master Bittern’s lips as he turns to face me. Relief washes over me like the first cooling rain after a long dry season.
“That will be all, Fledgling,” he says as he places the quill on the desk. “Your acquisitions are impressive, to say the least.”
I jump from my perch, bowing my head even as the other two men avoid looking at me. As though being associated with me could risk the Eagle’s wrath.
In all fairness, it might.
With quick strides, I cross the room and reach for the door handle. But before I can take hold, it flies open.
I pull up short as a young girl darts in, her dusty cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with unguarded excitement. The patched linens she wears, bare feet, and tangled hair all make her appear like nothing more than a street urchin.
But, of course, that’s the point.
No one suspects a scrappy child to be eavesdropping on their conversations. And it isn’t hard to teach one to act like an orphan—not when most are before the Aviary brings them into the fold.
Urchins, orphans, or those like me.
Unwanted.
My chest tightens, along with my grasp on the handle of the door. I force myself to ignore the feeling, relinquishing my hold one unfurled finger at a time.
Those emotions serve no purpose to me now. They belong to the ghost of a girl I once was. The one whose father refuses to acknowledge her. The one he blames for the skeletal remnants of a soul stolen too soon. Not the woman I am today.
Those emotions only weaken me—I cannot afford to beweak.
I keep my body as still as possible, observing as the girl stands on the tips of her toes and Master Bittern leans in close.
As her lips part, a gust of wind rushes through the open window, carrying snatches of her whispered words to my waiting ears.
“The Nightingaledocked…. Alpha Flight has returned…”
Without a sound, I slip out the door and into the shadows.
The sun warms my faceas it burns its descent over the horizon, casting a golden veil across the ocean and gilding the whitewashed buildings lining the canals. I tilt my chin down, letting the shadow from my hood fall over my face to hide it from the swarm of people as I cross the footbridge to Elotia.
Sixty-four isles make up the archipelago of the Sorrows, all of which once formed the southern peninsula of the Empyrieos, now scattered shards cast adrift in the Solorai Sea.
Elotia is one of the largest. Formed in the shape of a crescent moon, it cradles the kingdom’s busiest harbor in its embrace. Wooden docks extend into turquoise waters like the jagged teeth of a great sea beast, with merchant ships and fishermen’s vessels tethered to their posts. Amid sun-bleached warehouses and workshops, the Seiros Lighthouse looms on the eastern end, while on the northern tip, the clustered buildings give way to a marketplace.
