There was no sound. No light. Only the cold—wrapping around me like a second skin of frost, impossible to peel away. It seeped into every pore, crushed my chest, and pulled me under. My clothes clung like a trap. My teeth chattered—the raven. The blood… it almost stopped flowing.
I opened my eyes.
Murky shades of green and blue surrounded me. Light fractured across the water's surface like trembling knives. Water plants floated like spirits, brushing my skin in ghostly touches. No noise—only the echo of my heartbeat, slowing.
Where's Oliver? He pushed me. And now… he's gone?
Panic. Get out. Now. Move.
But there was nowhere to go. The water sealed itself around me. No breath left. Pressure in my throat. Eyes burning. A scream lodged in my lungs, desperate for air.
Then—something moved. Inside me. Behind my shoulders. At first, a tremor. Then, a pulse. And then… a release.
Wings.
I thought I was hallucinating—a death dream. But no. They were real. Me.
Wings. Rising from within.
They spread slowly, like this wasn't their first time. Like they'd always been there, waiting for the moment I truly needed them as if the pain had to be enough. As if fear had to tear down every wall. As if the heart had to awaken—even when the mind had given up.
But my body? It hadn't received the surrender notice. It chose something else—something closer to the truth.
Before I could even understand, they moved. Pushed—sliced upward like a crashing wave.
All at once—I shot toward the surface. I broke through, gasping.
My first breath of air—burned. I choked. I cried. Maybe I laughed. I couldn't tell anymore.
But one thing was sure: I was alive.
I collapsed at the lake's edge, muddy and soaked, breath ragged. My whole body shook. My skin was on fire. My heart raced wildly—like it didn't even know what had just happened.
I rolled onto my back. My pulse thundered too fast to be human. The sky above me was too calm—like the world hadn't just watched me break. Like it hadn't noticed me at all.
I wanted to win. To whisper, "I did it."
But then—a footstep. Soft. A single breath behind me.
I lifted my head.
Oliver stood there.
Watching. Hands in his pockets. Expression… serene.
Only the wind brushed my face. Only silence echoed. Only me—alone with the weight of my own survival.
He had seen everything from the very beginning. And did nothing.
Didn't reach out. Didn't call my name. Didn't ask if I was okay.
He just… watched.
I wasn't a student. I was an experiment.
His gaze wasn't cruel. But it wasn't afraid of losing me either. Something in between—as if he believed I could endure, so he wouldn't step closer until I proved it.
Something shattered inside me.
This wasn't a lesson. It was betrayal dressed as training—and my heart knew it before my mind could process it.
And the worst part? I had hoped he'd save me. I wanted him to.
I wanted to stand and scream. To beg for a hug.
But instead… I said nothing.
His expression didn't change. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, "Well." At least now you know how to fly. See?
And suddenly… I didn't know if I hated him. Or hated myself more for thinking he would be there.
And yet—I didn't crash. Not entirely.
Maybe that's what it takes to start flying. Not victory—but a moment. A ledge. A choice to open your wings—even when they're still trembling.