The memory began in chaos.
Greyspire's south market was drowning in screams and shouts, the sound warped by the shrill, ear-piercing screeches of the Darken Thief Bugs as they swarmed through the plaza. Each was the size of a mastiff, chitin plated in glimmering gold that caught the sun with blinding flashes. They moved in jerks and lunges, mandibles clacking, wings buzzing like sawblades.
Eliakim and Gideon weren't here. They were somewhere below, deep in the city's old sewer lines, tracking the nest's queen.Above ground, the streets had been left to panic.
And in the middle of it, Skyling.
The young avian beast crouched atop a merchant stall, wings half-furled, eyes locked on a bug skittering toward a group of pinned civilians. A vendor's cart had toppled during the stampede, trapping three people beneath its broken axle. The bug's forelegs lifted, ready to spear downward.
Skyling moved.
One beat of her wings cracked the air, launching her like a ballista shot. She hit the bug's flank with enough force to send it sprawling into the side of a stone building. Darken shards of chitin cracked and splintered.
She landed between the civilians and the recovering monster, feathers rising in an aggressive display. The bug clicked and lunged again.
Skyling twisted aside, talons raking along its joint seams. She wasn't as heavy as a warhorse, but she didn't need to be—the precision of her strikes crippled one leg, forcing the creature to stagger. She flared her wings, buffeting the civilians with just enough wind to urge them backward.
"Move! Move!" a city guard shouted, rushing forward. But he wasn't fast enough.
Another bug dropped from above, its wings buzzing as it aimed to land on the trapped group. Skyling pivoted mid-step, springing upward to intercept. The two collided midair, claws and mandibles snapping in a whirling knot of feathers and dark carapace.
The bug's bite caught her wing edge, tearing feathers, but Skyling drove her beak into the creature's exposed eye seam. It shrieked, stumbling back in blind retreat.
She landed in front of the civilians again, nudging the fallen cart with her shoulder. She wasn't strong enough to lift it outright—but with one more powerful wingbeat, she toppled it enough for the guards to drag the injured free.
A third bug charged from the alley's mouth. Skyling didn't meet it head-on. Instead, she darted low, letting it commit to the charge, then vaulted upward at the last heartbeat, talons catching the ridge of its carapace. She rode its momentum into the wall, slamming its head into the stone until the shell cracked.
Guards swarmed in then, spears piercing the weakened joints, finishing the beast.
"Clear the square!" a sergeant barked. But his gaze lingered on Skyling, who stood panting in the center of the chaos, feathers ruffled but unbowed.
One guard leaned to another."That's Skyling, right?"
"Yeah," the other replied, almost in disbelief. "She's the reason we're still counting survivors."
The fight raged for another hour, Skyling darting from street to street, intercepting bugs, shielding fleeing merchants, guiding children to guard lines. She never stayed still long enough for any civilian to ask questions—just a blur of wings, talons, and fierce calls cutting through the chaos.
By the time the last bug fell, the cobblestones were littered with dark shards and the plaza reeked of acid ichor.
Eliakim and Gideon emerged from the sewer grate at the market's edge, both streaked in mud and blood, eyes scanning the square. They saw the aftermath—the ruined stalls, the wounded being carried to safety—but not the one who had flown the hardest.
High above, Skyling soared over the rooftops, her shadow sweeping over the city. She kept climbing, higher and higher, until the air thinned and the noise below faded to nothing.
She hadn't been told to come into the city. She knew Eliakim didn't like her wandering into the heart of human crowds without him. And so she hid her triumph the only way she knew—by vanishing into the sky before her master could scold her.
Beneath the clouds, Greyspire's guards exchanged glances, already telling the story that would spread through every gatehouse and watchtower:
Of the winged guardian who fought beside them when the city burned.