Wei slowly opened his eyes.
Right in front of him lay a bright red fruit.
It was as large as his fist, full and round, giving off an inviting fragrance.
He stared at it for several breaths.
How could there be a fruit here?
His throat was so dry it hurt. His mind had not fully cleared, yet his body had already reached out ahead of his thoughts.
The fruit was perfectly ripe. It dropped easily into his palm, cool to the touch.
But the vine around it, though thick with leaves, bore no flowers and no other fruit.
The red skin looked almost too vivid, the scent rich and sweet as it drifted straight into his nose.
His hand had already lifted it to his mouth before his mind caught up, shouting in alarm, What if it is poisonous?
The flesh burst open between his teeth.
Sweet, but not cloying.
Juice slid down his throat in a smooth stream.
He had not even begun to chew when his throat suddenly tightened.
The sweetness seemed to dissolve something inside him. It tunneled down through his chest.
When it passed the wound across his chest, part of that strange warmth wrapped around the injury. Yet it also split into currents.
Some of the heat rushed backward, surging toward his eyes, his ears, his tongue.
Some plunged toward his liver.
Most of it continued downward, gathering in his lower abdomen like a pool of molten lava, slowly accumulating.
Then part of that heat surged upward along his spine.
The next instant, a strange swelling sensation exploded from his back.
It was not pain.
It was the feeling that something that did not belong inside his body was forcing its way out.
Wei's breathing broke apart.
His shoulder blades began to burn and tingle. The flesh there felt as if it were being braced from within, stretched tighter and tighter.
A faint grinding sound echoed close to the bone.
He could not tell whether it was real or only inside his skull.
He tried to turn his head, but his neck had stiffened.
Then came a sudden tear of pain across his skin.
Something broke through.
His vision darkened.
He felt weight behind him.
Heavy. Foreign.
As if something alive had been strapped onto his back.
He did not know what he had touched. Instinctively he tried to steady himself.
The air stirred.
Then a counterforce yanked his body backward.
Wei froze.
That had not been his hand.
The thing on his back moved again.
He tried to control it, but he could not find where to apply strength.
He tried to stop it, but he did not know which part of his body to command.
A short, sharp sound tore from his throat.
Even he was startled by it.
That was not a sound a human should make.
In near panic, he raised his hand and touched his face.
His fingertips met something hard, cold, and protruding forward.
His mind went blank.
A thought barely formed before fear crushed it.
No.
How did I become a bird?
He stumbled backward.
The weight behind him shifted.
The next second, a gust of wind lifted him clean off the ground.
Wei did not even have time to cry out before his body left the earth.
Night wind poured beneath his wings and hoisted him upward. Instinctively he flapped wildly. His body tilted and lurched as he shot into the air.
Stop. Stop.
He shouted in his mind.
But he only climbed higher.
Rooftops swept past beneath him. Charred beams became thin black lines in the night. The sensation of weightlessness churned his stomach.
Instinctively he pulled his wings inward.
His body dropped sharply.
A cry nearly escaped him.
In panic, he spread them wide again.
The air caught him.
This time, he did not thrash.
He felt the wind.
Not wind slamming into him, but wind holding him.
If he adjusted the angle of his wings just slightly, his body would glide along the current.
A gentle beat changed his direction.
Another lifted him several more yards.
Slowly, he steadied.
His breathing evened out.
His wings were nearly three meters across when fully extended. Feathers shimmered faintly in the night.
He tried gliding.
Not forcing, but yielding to the wind.
His body grew astonishingly light.
The village houses spread beneath him like a miniature model. The night sky was vast. Moonlight poured from behind the clouds, silver light spilling across his wings.
At that moment, he smiled.
There was no sound. Only a faint vibration in his chest.
He had never stood this high.
Never looked down upon the world like this.
No earth binding his feet.
No heavy human shell weighing him down.
The wind threaded through his feathers like a caress.
He almost forgot the fear from moments before.
With a thought, he dove.
The wind shrieked past his ears.
The ground swelled upward.
Just before impact, he beat his wings hard.
His body surged upward again.
Clean. Precise.
A pure exhilaration rose from deep within his bones.
He suddenly understood.
This was not monstrosity.
This was power.
This was freedom.
He circled once through the night sky, flying steadier and higher. The heat that had exploded from the fruit now flowed calmly through his blood, warm and steady like an ember.
Until he looked down.
The village lay below.
The ashes had not cooled. Small fires still smoldered.
Between scorched earth lay bodies.
The wind still carried him, but the lightness inside him sank.
He descended, flying closer to look.
Though not his family, they were faces he had known all his life. Neighbors. Familiar smiles.
The fire in his chest burned hotter, until his eyes stung.
Why. Why did this happen.
His voice, though edged with a bird's sharp tone, trembled with human hatred.
I will live. I will find the answer. And then I will kill every one of those beasts.
Suddenly, the sound of hooves rolled in from the darkness at the village entrance. Not one horse. Many. Heavy and unified, like thunderclouds passing overhead.
Wei beat his wings and climbed higher.
From the dark emerged a group of black clad riders. Black horses. Iron armor gleaming cold. Long blades gripped in their hands. From each saddle hung a string of severed human ears, still dark with blood.
They did not shout. They gave no commands. The formation moved in eerie silence.
Hooves trampled across corpses without hesitation, as though stepping over grass.
The men had high cheekbones and sunken eyes. Their skin was gray white, stretched tight like dried parchment.
One rider's breastplate was split open, exposing ribs that seemed collapsed inward.
Another bore a blackened gash across his throat, old and rotted at the edges.
Yet they sat upright in their saddles.
They did not breathe.
They did not blink.
Wei's heart sank.
He recognized the armor.
Yuan soldiers.
The kind whispered about in stories. The death riders said to crawl from graves.
Hatred surged through him like a tide.
The village.
Was it you who destroyed it?