Chapter Text
The drum beats echoed through her bones, sending shudders of fear and exhilaration up and down her spine. Another day. Another clipping.
The tips of her wings dragged over the dirty floor as Aife stepped to the window, watching the gruesome scene unfold. She halted a mere two feet from the murky glass pane, the manacles at her ankles and wrists going taut.
A female was hunched over in the dirt, her wings held open by two stocky males. They were a beautiful shade… Not black, but not brown either. A sort of blue-ish gray, reflecting the clouded skies overhead.
The biggest warrior, an Illyrian with a forehead too wide for his face, shouted the dreaded command. Aife flinched as the sword came down in two quick motions. She heard the female scream before she saw the damage.
Blood bloomed from the two slashes splitting the female’s wings, cutting through the tendon and bone in an irreversible method. The Illyrians holding the wings let them drop, and the scarred female collapsed to the floor.
Breathing hard, Aife backed away, tucking her wings even tighter behind her back. She pressed herself into the grimy corner of the basement, sliding to the floor.
For seventeen years, she’d watched from that Cauldron-forsaken window as they cut down her kind, one by one. Sometimes it was friends, sometimes strangers, but all were female.
No matter how hard she fought against the manacles chaining her to the wall, no matter how much she screamed for the males to stop, Aife was powerless.
The door to the basement slammed open, and her shoulders banged into the wall as she straightened.
“Good morning, dear sister,” Serta purred, his broad shoulders illuminated by the small candle sitting beside her cot.
She tried to make eye contact, but her brother dropped his gaze to the floor. His thin lips, however, were set in a sneer.
“Do you have food for me?” she asked.
Snorting, Serta said, “Father’s cutting you off until you bleed.”
Aife raised her chin, summoning as much dignity as she could. “I can’t control it,” she snarled.
Faster than she could react, Serta grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Don’t talk back to me,” he hissed, face twisted in fury. “You’re seventeen, well past the age. If you’ve been hiding it from me, Mother help me, I will rip the skin from your bones strip by strip.”
He released her chin, and Aife relaxed - until the back of his hand cracked across her face.
Though she tasted blood, she didn’t so much as cry out, just blinked the reflexive tears away. Slowly, she looked back to Serta, smirking. The color drained from the warrior’s face as he realized his mistake.
“A friend stole a female from you?” Aife clicked her tongue. “Serta, I thought you were stronger than that.”
She sifted through his memories, now open for the taking. “What was her name? Kielli. A fitting name, I suppose.” An image of a tall, slender woman appeared at the front of her mind. “She was beautiful.”
A muscle feathered in Serta’s jaw, and Aife saw the punch before it came, driving into her stomach. Defenseless, she curled into a ball, protecting what she could from her brother’s unending blows.
Agony coursed through her veins, but she took every kick, every blow in mute pain. She would not let her spirit be subdued. Beatings came every day, whether they were from Serta or Father. The most she could do was control when they came, and how she responded.
When Serta stopped, she hesitantly raised her gaze.
Panting, her brother stared at the ground, his massive chest rising and falling with every breath. His head snapped up, though his eyes remained on the floor.
“Tomorrow, you’re getting clipped and mated,” he growled. “There are already suitors lined up to take you.”
Serta ascended the stairs, his spread wings casting shadows along the stone walls, and shut the door behind him, leaving Aife whimpering on the floor.
It was over, then. Her years of smothering the stains with candle wax and soaking her undergarments in water to mask the scent of her blood. Since she’d come of age, they’d stopped cutting her, stopped injuring her in any way that drew blood so they could scent when she transitioned into a woman.
But none of that mattered now. Because tomorrow she would share the fate of the female outside the window, and surrender herself to a male. The only freedom she had would be taken from her.
Crumpled inside and out, Aife took a shuttering breath, a lump growing at the back of her throat. Groaning, she heaved herself off the floor and crawled back to the corner, to the only place in the world where she felt safe.
Aife tucked her knees to her chest, letting her head fall back against the wall. Her dark hair snagged on the talons crowning the apex of her wings, and she pulled it over her shoulder. Slowly, gently, she used her coppery fingers to work through the snarls.
Silent tears trailed down her cheeks as she pulled apart the tangles, shaky sobs breaking from the back of her throat.
She’d never had a chance to live. And now she never would.