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  “Mom,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Mom, no, Mom, please!”

  She buried her face against her mother’s chest, shrieking out in wordless agony. She didn’t want to see any more, to hear any more. Bree wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, clutching her tightly, not caring about the blood that seeped into her clothes. She just wanted one more embrace before the vultures came to reclaim her wings. She wanted to pretend her mother was alive and well, holding her, loving her, kissing her forehead before flying away for another day of training and drills.

  Not this corpse. Not this lifeless thing.

  A hand touched her shoulder. Bree pulled back, expecting to see her brother, but instead it was a tall Weshern Seraph. Blood smeared his fine black coat. To her surprise, the surrounding neighborhood was quiet, the battle seemingly over.

  “Was she your mother?” the man asked. Bree could barely see his face through the shadows cast by the midnight fire. She sniffled, then nodded.

  “Then you must be Breanna. I—I don’t know how else to tell you this. It’s about your father.”

  His words were a dagger to an already punctured heart. It couldn’t be. The world couldn’t be that cruel.

  “No,” she whispered. “No, that can’t be right.”

  The Seraph swallowed hard.

  “Breanna, I’m sorry.”

  Bree leapt to her feet, and she flung herself at the man, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “No, it can’t. Not both, we can’t lose them both, we can’t… we can’t…”

  She broke, collapsing at his feet, her tears falling upon his black boots. She beat the stone cobbles until she bled, beat them as she screamed, beat them as, high above, the midnight fire burned like an unrelenting pyre for the dead.

  CHAPTER 1

  I keep telling you,” Jevin said as they walked the stone road to the fishing docks. “You aren’t ready.”

  “But you said when we turned sixteen we’d get to go with you,” Bree insisted.

  “And when is that?” Jevin asked.

  “Next week.”

  The deeply tanned man threw up a hand, as if that answered everything. With his other hand he carried dozens of heavy nets slung over his shoulder. Jevin was a friend of Aunt Bethy’s, and he was quick to remind Bree and Kael of how close he’d been to their father as well.

  “Peas in a pod,” he’d tell them. “Until he joined the Seraphim, anyway.”

  Bree had used that close relationship to guilt and charm dozens of gifts and favors out of the man, but as they passed through the gathering crowds of fishermen, she decided that connection might now be working against her.

  “It’s not that long to wait,” Kael said, walking alongside her. “I’d rather practice on land a few more times anyway.”

  Bree had to choke down her exasperated groan.

  “Of course you would,” she said. “You’re terrible at it.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Yes. That’s the point. I’d rather not go crashing headfirst into the ocean because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “I’m not sure crashing headfirst into dirt is any better…”

  “Enough,” Jevin said, interrupting them both. “We’re not having this discussion. You want to fly, do it over the island.”

  Bree had a dozen retorts ready, but she held them in, deciding it was not yet time to wage this battle. Idea growing, she obediently dipped her head and remained silent as they entered the docks. All around her were tanned men, their clothes faded brown and gray. Several long tables lined either side of the street, their surface coated with fish guts and gore as giant cleavers rose and fell, cutting off the undesirable parts as those beside them sliced with long knives, cleaning and gutting the catch of the day. The noise was one of hearty cheers, jokes, and laughter accompanied by thuds of steel and the ever-constant roar of the unseen Fount below.

  But most interesting to Bree were the men at the far end, where the docks ended and the sky began. With the morning so young, most were strapping on their wings, buckling belts, and adjusting the connected gauntlet on their left hand. At their feet were dozens of nets and sharpened harpoons. The wings themselves were short and stocky, designed for lift instead of speed. Bree and Kael had practiced with a set just like them, hovering several feet above the ground while Jevin watched protectively. The whole while it drove Bree insane. It was like being a bird with clipped wings.

  “Hey, Bryce,” Jevin said, approaching a hollowed-out stone block where a bearded man stood within with arms crossed. “Morning going well?”

  “No one’s died, but the fish ain’t catching themselves,” Bryce said, deep voice rumbling. “So going as well as one can hope for without wishing on angels.”

  The big man turned about, scanning rows of wooden shelves inside his structure, each shelf lined with the wing contraptions. He found Jevin’s, pulled it off, and handed it over.

  “The switch was getting sticky, so I replaced the spring,” he said. “Best I can do before sending it off to Center for the theotechs to have a look.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Jevin said, hooking his free arm through the two leather loops that went underneath the armpits. As he stepped away, Bree put her hands on the small barrier between her and Bryce.

  “Mine, too,” she said.

  Bryce shot a look to Jevin, who gave a hesitant nod.

  “Should start making you pay for this,” the bearded man said, leaning down beneath the front shelf and pulling up a smaller set of wings from out of view. “Light elements don’t come cheap.”

  “Thank God you aren’t paying for it then,” Bree said, accepting the wings. The light element that powered the wings came from Central. Weshern’s Archon then allocated a set amount each month to training new fishermen.

  “Rate you’re using it up, I might have to anyway,” Bryce said, but a grin was on his face. Seeing Kael lingering beside Jevin, he called out, louder. “You also going to fly today, kid?”

  “Maybe,” Kael said, smiling warmly at the man. “But only if Bree doesn’t hog it all.”

  They traveled across the street and onto the wooden planks, Bryce’s roaring laughter to their backs. As Bree clutched the wing contraption to her chest, she glanced down. The docks were built onto the side of their island, overhanging the sky, and through gaps in the planks she could see glimpses of the clouds below. The sight gave her shivers of the good kind.

  Jevin stopped them at an open spot near the middle, let his net plop to the wood, and then lifted his wings up and over his shoulders. He was a scrawny-looking man, his face long and gaunt, but his arms and chest were corded muscle. The wings could carry only so much weight, and while the stunted version the fishermen were given was designed to carry more than normal, it still had its limits. As a result, nearly all the men around were lean and fit, strong of arm, and thin around the waist. The more fish they could carry each trip, the better their pay at the end of the day.

  “Is it all right if I go first?” Bree asked her brother as Jevin began tying the buckles.

  “You’d only argue with me if I said no,” Kael said, and he grinned at her. “Go ahead. We both know you love flying more than I do.”

  Bree mussed his hair, then began sliding on the harness to the wings. She’d never understand Kael. They spent every single day of their lives with their feet touching the ground. The clouds, the wind, the world spinning beyond… how could you ever deny the allure? Putting an arm through one side, she shifted the harness onto her back and shoulders, then slid the other arm through. The weight settled comfortably on her shoulders. The wings were a rustic gold, hard and unmoving from their folded position. Everything else, though, was stiff leather and padded cloth. Two buckles went underneath her armpits, a large strip of leather dropped down her back and then latched around her waist, and the last two strips connected to those looped about her thighs before buckling tight. Bree went through the process one after the other, refu
sing Jevin’s offered help.

  “How do I look?” she asked when finished, standing tall and thrusting back her shoulders.

  Jevin smiled at her.

  “Like an angel,” he said.

  Bree glanced over her shoulder at the small, stunted wings now attached to her back. They were not designed to move, instead remaining perfectly in place during flight. It was the light element that gave the wings the ability to fly, and that element was controlled by the left gauntlet attached to the wings. Reaching over her shoulder, she shifted the wings to rest a bit more comfortably, then unhooked the gauntlet from its side. A slender tube ran from its bottom to the thick stump at the arch of her back, where the wings connected. Bree put her left hand inside the golden gauntlet, then tightened the buckles. It took every hole on the belt to get the wings snug.

  “Flex your fingers,” Jevin said, having watched her all the while. She did so, showing that the gauntlet fit fine and would not cause issues in flight.

  “What next?” Jevin asked, running her through the checklist he’d taught her to prepare for any period of flight.

  “Check the element,” she said.

  She lifted the gauntlet, where along the wrist was an opening covered by a sliver of glass. Inside, protected by the metal of the gauntlet, was a white prism shard: the light element they used for flight. Various tubes and wires understood only by the theotechs connected to the prism, drawing out the energy of the light element and pulsing it through the tube running from the gauntlet’s edge to the wings. As Bree flew and the light element was used, the color would slowly drain away, turning the prism gray. Peering through the thick glass, she saw the element was bright white, fully charged.

  “Good,” said Jevin. “Next, check the switch. Make sure it ain’t sticking or being stubborn.”

  Bree knew all this, and on normal days she’d have grumbled at his belief that he must remind her. Not today. Today she felt a stirring in her stomach. Today, she knew, was different.

  Built into the right side of the forefinger was a red toggle switch. Using her thumb, she could tilt it forward and backward, effectively increasing, or shutting off entirely, the push from the light element that was sent to the wings. Back and forth she moved it, quick enough to prevent the wings from gaining any lift. The contraption thrummed, a deep, pleasant sound. The wings themselves shimmered a bright gold.

  “Remember, stay above the docks,” he told her as he picked up his net. “And try not to fly more than thirty minutes. Bryce gets pissed at me when you do.”

  He walked toward the end of the docks, and she followed. Jevin paused, and there was no hiding his frustration when he glared at her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, Bree, you’re too young to…”

  “Josh Hadley is already fishing with his father, and he’s fifteen. Do you think he’s a safer flier than I am?”

  Of course he wasn’t, and the argument was hardly a new one for her. Still, Jevin was suited up for work, and with each second he argued, he risked missing out on a good catch.

  “Fine,” he said. “Your aunt will kill me for this, no matter how many times I tell her it was your idea. Promise me you won’t do something stupid.”

  “Jevin…”

  “Promise me.”

  Bree rolled her eyes.

  “I promise,” she said.

  Jevin hardly looked convinced, but he let it drop.

  “Let’s go,” he said. They walked to the edge of the docks, where the wood came to an end. Peering over, Bree saw only clouds, big white puffy things drifting lazily along. The twisting in her stomach heightened, but her excitement easily overwhelmed it.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Kael called out to her, stopping at a groove cut into the wood that marked where those without wings were not allowed to cross.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Bree called back.

  “Liar.”

  Jevin took her by the elbow and guided her closer to the edge, chuckling at her brother’s words.

  “Remember,” he said, “scrunch your shoulders to rotate forward, pull them wide to rotate backward. It’ll help a little, but most changes of direction will depend on your own upper body strength.”

  Her mouth opened, the words I know on her lips, but he shushed her with a glare.

  “This is serious,” he said. “You may think it’s all obvious, but when something jostles your wings and you’re plummeting toward the water in a dead spin, even the easiest of things can be hard to remember. I’ve watched good men, fishers all their lives, react wrongly to things they didn’t expect. It cost them their lives. So fly slow, fly straight, and stay away from the Fount. Got it?”

  Despite the seriousness of his tone, she bobbed her head and smiled.

  “Got it.”

  Jevin took in a deep breath, and for a moment she feared he’d change his mind.

  “Well, then,” he said, “come along.”

  With that, his own wings thrummed to life, and he rose into the air, spinning about so he could watch her as he floated away. Bree looked down, off the wood and to the clouds. This was it. Rising above the docks and the nearby buildings was one thing, but now there would be no dirt, no grass, no street. Only the open air. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped back, another step, and then before her rational mind could convince her she was insane she vaulted out into the open space, letting out a whoop as her adrenaline surged. Clutching her left hand into a fist like she’d been taught, she pushed the switch to full. Her wings thrummed, and she felt the belts and buckles tighten as the harness caught her.

  The wings pushed only one direction, and that was in the direction she pointed them. Keeping at a forty-five-degree angle, she decreased the throttle until she settled into a comfortable, steady line. Much of the thrust negated the pull of gravity, the remainder pushing her straight ahead. Behind her, the docks shrank. She spun to watch them, shifting so that she was perfectly erect as well as decreasing the throttle the tiniest bit more. Her momentum kept her drifting away from the island, the push of her wings keeping her from dropping.

  To her complete lack of surprise, Jevin flew after her, joining her side.

  “Remember,” he shouted. “Nothing stupid. You promised.”

  Her smile was her only acknowledgment.

  Down Jevin dropped, and though she was excited to follow, she wanted height first. Remaining erect, she pushed the wings to full power, rising straight up into the sky. The wind blew through her hair, and when Jevin left her, she realized she was alone and free. Only the slowness of her wings, bulky and heavy and designed for carrying fish, tarnished it. Taking far too long, she rose until she could see far along the southwestern limits of her home island of Weshern. Along the outer edges were the fields, great swaths of green and yellow depending on what grew in the fertile soul. From her vantage point she saw Lowville, a tiny little cluster of stone buildings with wooden rooftops, and it thrilled her beyond words. Peering into Weshern itself, she could just barely make out the holy mansion, home of the Willer family that had ruled Weshern as Archon for decades. The building was enormous, with lofty spires and clean white marble walls. So many times she’d viewed it from afar with jealousy, but now she saw it as small as everything else.

  Thumbing the switch so it was half pressed, she pushed her shoulders forward and bent her waist. The change in direction of the wings rotated her in midair, and once she was pointed downward she arched her back and spread her shoulders to halt her rotation. Straightening out, her body began to descend, a gentle glide that blew the wind through her hair and spread her smile from ear to ear. She curled the tiniest bit so that her descent sharpened, dropping her through the clouds. Down and down she went, until she emerged beneath not only the clouds but the island of Weshern itself. The soil above her head was thick and brown, a ragged, pointed shape of earth that floated by the grace of God and his angels. And down there, before the Fount, sh
e entered another world.

  Beneath her was the Endless Ocean, sparkling and blue. It stretched for miles in all directions, with not a hint of land to be seen. Connecting ocean to island in a great swirling funnel a thousand yards wide was the Fount. The water lifted almost lazily, a roaring mass with a hollow center that gently turned, rising up and up toward the very heart of the island. Through the water Bree saw the faintest hint of the Beam, the mysterious shaft of light controlled by the theotechs that caused the water to rise and the island to float. Once the water reached the bottom of the island, it vanished through enormous grates, was blessed by the theotechs, and then poured out in various waterfalls scattered throughout Weshern. Some of the water went to the fields, some to fountains and decorative ponds, while the rest went to the many lakes Weshern was famous for.

  The sound of the Fount, while inaudible on the top of Weshern, was a tremendous roar below, and Bree stared at the swirling waters with her mouth agape. A hundred times she’d read about the Fount and seen its pictures in books at school, but witnessing the true scope of its size was another thing entirely. Swarming about it like bees around a flower were the fishermen. They were brown and gold shapes flitting up and down the great length of the funnel, dragging nets and hurling harpoons. As she watched, she could not deny their bravery and skill. The Fount was always moving, never much, but its size was so great and the fishermen so small that the slightest shift threatened to plunge dozens at a time into the waters, yet with each shift the men were ready, adjusting their circular flights. From the docks to the Fount, she watched a constant flow of men traveling each way, some carrying filled nets to the world above, others hurrying below, eager for another haul.

  Jevin must be there somewhere, she thought, and flicking the switch back to full, she flew toward the Fount. Her body lay parallel to the ocean below, but her speed was so slow the strength of the blowing air was not enough to keep her legs lifted. Instead she hung from the straps, needing to use her muscles to keep them straight. It drove her mad, and she pushed harder and harder on the switch, as if to pry the tiniest extra speed from the folded wings. She thought of the aerial stunts performed by the Seraphim during the yearly military parades, and her frustration grew. She didn’t want to plod along, feet dangling.