A Crown of Broken Runes (ACOBR)

Feathers

A train station made of stone. An icy ocean. A mighty city, guarded over by pale golems. A blue squid. A statue made of clay. A grave.

Grian took a deep breath, pulling himself out of his dreams. The man stretched, wincing as the light of day streamed directly into his eyes. He reached up to rub the sleepiness from his face, but something stopped him. A faint, pale purplish glow was emanating from his hand. He inspected it curiously, realizing that he had a small symbol on the palms of both his hands. It looked like two L's, one facing up, one facing down, along with two dots. He inhaled. There was something strangely... familiar about it.

Where have I seen this before?

Grian stood up, wobbling unsteadily, and attempted to run his fingers through his waffle-like hair. As he did so, his hands brushed his helmet, and he realized he was still wearing his armour and broken elytra.

What? He thought. I died. I should have lost all of my items... He shrugged, and walked out into the bright sunlight.

After a moment of stretching, he noticed an unfamiliar weight on his back. He unclipped the silvery gliders and felt his back curiously. Two large lumps protruded from his shoulder blades. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He should get a better look.

He equipped a spare elytra and glided down to the little lake where his starter base was. The serene pond beneath reflected him perfectly, and the few ripples that there were lapped playfully at the shore. A few schools of fish darted about in the cool, clear water. As he alighted, the beautiful jungle scenery rose around him. Vines hung down from the branches of the trees, and in the distance, an enormous tree rose from the ground, planted and nurtured by Iskall, one of his buddies and jungle neighbours. Larry the Snail sat peacefully on the banks of the lake, and Grian quickly popped in to see if his owner, Scar, was home. Grinning from ear to ear, he broke down the door, snatching it and quickly depositing it into a shulker box.

His boots sunk into the sand as he alighted at the edge of the water. He took off his armour and glanced at this reflection. Confusion flashed across his face. His eyes were a faint purple and... on his back...

He pulled off his signature red jumper and inhaled sharply. Two magnificent wings, covered in glittering pale violet feathers, merged smoothly into his skin. He carefully felt the new appendages with shaking hands. He scooped up some water, and splashed it across his face, taking in what he had seen. He stood up, breathing heavily, and placed down a chest. His jumper, followed by his armour and the elytra, flew into it, and it snapped closed with a creak.

Glancing about, he made sure he wasn't being watched. The bird-man flexed his wings experimentally, and to his great surprise, it felt almost... instinctual. Like he had done it before... he shook off the thought. That couldn't be. He flapped them, and a few glimmering feathers floated down and landed upon the water. Ripples made their way gently across the serene surface of the lake, warping his reflection. He moved his wings again, up and down, and he felt his weight begin to lift. Enthused by this small success, Grian began to flap harder. The water waved and splashed as he tried to take off, the gusts from each flap hitting the surface.

Suddenly, he was in the sky. He laughed, exhilarated by the air flowing through his feathers and hair. He went higher, bursting through the branches of the jungle canopy, and tried to hover. The mist from the clouds condensed in gleaming pearls, clinging to his skin and resting on his wings like beads of glass. The wind was stronger up here, and he let out an exclamation of dismay as an unexpected gust of air hit him. He flailed a bit, tumbling through the air.

He moved his wings up and down awkwardly as the wind tossed him about. He still needed practice. Flying here in the humid jungle was much different than the stagnant air of the mesa. He crashed back down through the branches of the canopy, startling a parrot. Grian's panicked flapping smacked him into a tree trunk, and he ricocheted into some vines. He winced, grasping the thick ropy creepers to stop himself from falling. He folded his wings with a sigh, and began to disentangle himself from the plants.