Wings of Destruction and Duty

25 || Aurnia

Towns had an air that stuck to your skin and bore into your mind. They fostered spirit, encouraged community and gave the people a sense of belonging. Yet Aurnia could never come to terms with how fickle they could be. Within towns, ideas flowed, like leaves in a storm, propelled by whispers and resentment until they finally rotted under the prying eyes of a neighbour or a supposed friend.

Piranth was no different. Its picturesque cottages and neatly cobbled paths failed to hide the chipped shutters or the cracks that now ate into the cottage walls like long abandoned cobwebs. But as uncomfortable as she felt, Agrona's compass had led her here. So Aurnia gritted her teeth and hovered at the town's edge, keenly aware that if she planned to avoid suspicion, she would need to find a place to hide, and quickly.

Thanks to her keen eyesight, she had spotted the wanted posters from a mile away. They plastered the town gates like gnats on a tomato plant, and Aurnia grimaced. It seemed that her last adventure in the castle had provoked the King to issue a reward for her capture. And as she stared at the crudely drawn depiction of her face, her spirits briefly lightened. Helias' tempers were famous for their scope and intensity. When she considered him a friend, she had warned him to rein it in. He had refused, and it seemed that his stubbornness had finally paid off.

They had put her scar on the wrong eye.

It wasn't much. One look at her face and even the dullest blade would recognise who she was. But the mistake gave her hope. There were cracks in Helias' veneer of power, all she had to do was find the right places to tear it apart. Aurnia laughed. That was easier said than done, and it was strange to consider how she'd comfortably learned to spin more lies than the spiders that had lived above her bedroom door.

The setting sun painted the clouds with an array of golds and blues, sending shadows dancing over the rippling wheat fields that stood between her and Piranth. Idyllic, if it weren't for the abandoned houses that littered the edges of the road she walked on. Aurnia gazed at the people's heads bobbing gently in the distance, and she frowned. Spring was almost over, and it was far too late to begin planting wheat.

She narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. Piranth was outside her realm of care. Whatever was happening, she could investigate after pulling her sister from the king's clutches. But as she ducked into the nearest empty house, Aurnia's eyes settled on the wooden bull that had been abandoned on the table that sat just beyond the doorway.

Worn by time and hungry termites, it was difficult to make out the floral wreath that adorned the animal's head. She turned it over in her hand, admiring the artist's ability to meld the wood's natural whorls into their intricate design. Wisps of old magic flickered upon contact with her skin, and Koa chirped and stuck a gentle paw out of his resting place in her bag.

"Bulls don't have stars on their brows, do they?"

"Usually they don't. But this isn't a common bull," she ran her finger over the figure's back and let the fresh smell of fallen apples race through her head. "Piranth lies to the west and most, if not all, of Aefither's produce is grown in this region. Here, the people never worshipped Uione. Instead, they turned all their attention on my uncle, Taeus."

"Your cousin?"

Aurnia smiled and moved to settle beneath the furthest window. If anyone came in, she would see them first.

"They believed that Taeus could protect their crops during the season of growth. In reality, it was a group effort between several gods, and for a while, no one minded the misplaced glory."

"For a while. Does that mean that they–"

"There was a fight, but I believe they made up and went their separate ways." When she saw Koa's bewildered face, Aurnia hesitated. Her mother had considered it a betrayal to speak ill of those who raised you. But now, all alone in a crumbling house, Aurnia struggled to remain loyal to those teachings.