Pov: Kaelira
I woke to something soft and cool bumping against my nose.
Blinking the sleep away, I found myself face-to-face with the wide-eyed, fuzzy face of a will-o-cub floating above me.
Two more hovered floated, giggling in that unique magical way only their kind could.
They looked like glowing puffballs, each a different soft pastel colour—one minty green, one lavender, and one soft pale gold.
Their tiny paws never touched the ground; instead, they bobbed gently in the air like—what did Damian call it again?
Oh. Fireflies. Lazy fireflies.
"You couldn't let me sleep a bit more?" I mumbled. One nuzzled my cheek like it was saying nope.
The golden one made a hiccup-like noise and spun in place, clearly proud of its wake-up mission.
Yawning, I turned to glance at Damian. Still asleep. He snored softly, limbs tangled in shadow.
I stretched, shook out my wings, and tiptoed away for my morning flight.
Flying was the best part of waking up.
I never got tired of it.
Flying through the sky, the wind played with my curls, the scent of sweet moss in the air.
Beneath me, the forest sparkled as if it were alive.
Leaves the size of my wings curled and unfurled with the rhythm of the wind.
One small creature darted past—three tails wagging in three different directions like they couldn't agree where to go.
The wildlife here was delightfully odd. Some creatures shimmered like liquid metal. Some floated. A few pulsed with bioluminescence. Jellyfish-like beings drifted between trees like slow-moving clouds.
Everything on Bloom felt strange, wild, and soft—like the planet had grown from a dream.
As I got closer to my favourite spot I slowed, a glimmering lake tucked between banks with vibrant flowers and twisting trees.
I glided down, the sound of my wings fluttering behind me, and landed softly on the mossy bank.
Leaning over, I peered into the water. My reflection blinked back. Long, thick curls black as coal. Eyes that shifted between gold and amber.
But as I stared, ripples from my breath stirred the surface and my reflection shimmered—my eyes turning deep crimson, my cheekbones sharpening and markings appearing along my cheekbones and forehead—then everything returned to normal.
I tilted my head. The girl in the lake did the same.
Sometimes, I thought the lake knew more than I did.
I peeled off my clothes slowly letting the chill nip at my skin before stepping into the water. I scrubbed away yesterday's grime, the water sliding over my curves as the lake closed around me, my thoughts drifted.
I didn't know how long I'd lived here.
The trees had once been smaller. The skies quieter.
Damian said I'd probably been here for centuries—at least. But I never kept count.
The creatures were lovely, but none could speak to me.
Some came close when I sang. A few let me braid their fur or balance stones on their heads.
But they never answered my questions. They only blinked or made little musical sounds.
So, I made games. I raced the wind. I spoke to the moon. I named every flower and stream and shadow.
And I pretended they answered.
Still… it felt like waiting. For something.
Sometimes, I wondered why I didn't leave.
I was curious.
I wanted to see the creatures in all the stories Damian told me about.
But even if I wanted to, I couldn't.
Damian could turn into black smoke, slipping between places—but he couldn't take me with him.
His magic was his own, and I had no way to follow.
He did say there was a way—if I truly wanted to leave, he'd have to track down a celestial. They had the power to move between realms.
But I didn't know how long that would take. And I wasn't willing to let him leave me that long.
Besides, I wasn't sure I was ready.
Bloom was all I knew. And even if it had once felt like a prison, it was also a home.
Then Damian crashed here—bleeding and cursing, looking like he wanted to bite the planet in half.
And suddenly, I had someone to ask things. Someone who replied, even if half the time it was with a groan or sarcasm.
Since then, Bloom felt different.
Like a story just beginning.
Like I wasn't waiting anymore.
I reached for a silksprout flower on the bank, crushing its green petals between my fingers like Damian had shown me.
The scent of sweet air and morning wind filled my nose as I lathered the foam into my hair.
I sank beneath the surface, letting the water rinse everything away.
When I stepped out, droplets clung to my wings. I shook them lightly, water sparkling in the light.
A rustle in the trees.
I turned, pushing my wet hair from my face.
Damian.
He'd changed into the form he often wore around me—tall and broad-shouldered, with two arms, two legs, a nose, a mouth, ears, and a pair of eyes.
His skin gave off a gentle glow, cool like night air. Sharp features, high cheekbones, strong jaw. His hair always looked like the wind had fought him and won.
He wore black, as usual. A simple outfit that showed off his strength and shadows.
He held out a woven cloth. I ran to meet him, then shook out my wings and hair—soaking him.
"Really, Kae?!" he barked, thoroughly unamused.
I laughed. He let out a breath, turned me by the shoulders, and started drying my hair.
"You really are a menace," he muttered.
"I know," I beamed over my shoulder. He rolled his eyes.
After drying me off, he slung the towel around my shoulders and turned to leave.
"I have a promise to uphold. I'll be gone a bit."
The book!
"Yes, yes, go! Quickly!" I nudged him in the direction of Nythera.
He smirked, kissed my cheek, and vanished into black smoke.
I dressed slowly, slipping into the gown Damian had brought from some other world. It was off-the-shoulder, light and airy—like wearing the wind. I smoothed it over my hips. Before this, I'd only worn the cloth I'd woken up in—a magical fabric that never dirtied, but never changed.
Damian said variety was important. I liked variety.
Stomach growling, I headed for the sunfruit grove.
Golden light from the planet filtered through the trees, soft and warm. The wind picked up gently.
I sniffed the air.
"Sunfruit," I said aloud to no one in particular.
Barefoot in the cool grass, I moved slowly. My dress tangled at my ankles, catching on thorns.
I bent under an arch of lavender flowers, passed glowing mushrooms, and tiptoed around a sleeping murmur fox.
Finally, I reached the grove. Round golden fruit hung from low branches, glowing faintly.
I smiled and reached up. The warmth of the sunfruit pulsed in my hands. But as I touched it, something shifted.
My breath hitched. Time slowed. A whisper brushed through me.
Elira.
I froze.
I couldn't say how I knew, but I was sure it was hers.
My creator's name.
A shadowy figure appeared in my mind—long robes, hands brushing back my hair. A voice. A whisper. My name.
Then it was gone.
"Elira," I whispered, heart full and aching.
I dropped into the grass, savouring the last of the fruit from my fingertips. Warm and full, I leaned back against a tree, wings sprawled across moss. I closed my eyes, holding onto that name.
Elira.
The air shifted.
I opened my eyes and smiled. Damian.
He stepped from the trees, looking slightly rumpled. In his hands—something thick and dark.
A book.
I sprang to my feet and crashed into him. "You got it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"I said I would. And I needed some peace," he grumbled, handing it over.
I dropped to the ground, already flipping it open. "Sunlight and Starlight? Is this what the humans wrote?"
"Yup. A Valerie recommended it," he said, flopping beside me. "Now let me sleep."
I giggled and leaned against him, getting ready to read. The cover was soft under my fingers, the pages crisp with that lovely book smell. The letters curled and danced in the way Nytheran books did—translated by the Velari's magic into a language I could understand.
It started with a girl under a pale sky—not pink like Bloom's, but grey-blue—and her thoughts were heavy and sharp and lonely. Just like mine used to be. Only this girl had a boy who noticed her. I pressed my fingers to my lips and peeked at Damian beside me, still snoring.
The book was full of longing glances and whispered promises. Every page made me pause and wonder: did humans really act like this? Touching each other's cheeks, brushing hands like it meant something. How strange. How wonderful.
A breeze ruffled the pages, and I held them down, guarding my treasure.
I read on, half draped across Damian's side, the book open in front of me.
This book was different.
Before this, the ones Damian brought from Nythera were full of strange beings—creatures with too many limbs, or bodies made of smoke and stone. One book described a race that spoke in colour, their skin flashing hues like living paintings. Another followed the feathered people of Eithren, who walked backward and built cities in trees.
They were beautiful. Fascinating. But even when they spoke of fear or joy, the emotions always felt… distant. Like I was watching through a window.
But this? This was something else entirely.
The girl in this story thought things I had thought. She felt alone in a way I knew too well. And when the boy touched her hand, it made her heart race.
I kept rereading the sentence.
Why?
Why would a hand do that?
I turned over, reaching for Damian's hand and holding it gently in mine. His hands were bigger than mine, long-fingered, calloused but warm. Always warm.
But that was all. Just warmth. Familiar and steady.
My heart didn't race. My face didn't burn. Nothing strange happened at all.
Still… I was curious.
I wanted to understand.
To feel what she felt.