Fan Fiction ❯ Wings ❯ Arrival ( Chapter 1 )

Wings

 

The traveler made his way wearily through the familiar halls. Even after the changes of those lost years, he still knew his way around the intricate passages as well as he knew his way around his home on the island. But that was another place that he no longer belonged. He'd turned his back on the island, and despite all he'd done to atone for that, it wouldn't have felt right going back there.

Not that this place was much better. The people living here remembered his terrible past, too. But he hadn't known them before - the betrayal wasn't as complete. They'd been surprised to see him, to be sure. The last news they'd had of him was that he had been locked away with the remnants of the Darkness. So when a bedraggled, silver-haired young man had collapsed in the entry hall, they hadn't suspected his identity.

It hadn't been in his plans to conceal who he was. The trip between worlds was, if anything, harder than it had been when the Darkness had been invading, and the path from the place where he'd landed was not created for easy foot travel. He'd been battered and exhausted by the time he'd reached the floating platform. He'd also changed considerably during the last few years. He'd reached his full height, and developed a lean but powerful build from near-constant swordplay. He'd let his hair grow, too, and now it reached halfway down his back. Still, when he'd felt compassionate hands helping him to his feet, his voice had lodged in his throat.

It wasn't until they had half-carried him into the main hall that he'd been able to fully regain his footing and force a few words through the haze of exhaustion and emotion.

“I'm all right.”

“Like hell you are,” said the leather-clad man to his left. “I've seen zombies that looked further from death's door.”

There was a giggle from his other side. “But that's on the opposite side of it,” chirped the short brunette woman. “So that doesn't really count.”

He'd managed a weak smile at that, but stopped protesting. Movement at the top of the stairs caught his attention. A blonde man had emerged from the library and now stood clutching the banister.

“Who - who is that?!” came the first challenge to the traveler's identity.

The girl looked over at him, embarrassed. “Gee, I didn't catch that on the way in.”

There was an awkward pause. These people had had their world destroyed during the war with the Darkness. For a while, he had been part of that Darkness. There was no helping it, though.

“My name is Riku.”

 

* * * * * * *

 

To their credit, they hadn't tossed him off the balcony. He wouldn't have blamed them, and the inherent magic of the castle would have deposited him uninjured whereever he landed. Instead, they had provided him with Healing, and listened to him as he explained everything that had happened since he'd last seen them. The two that had brought him in nodded periodically and seemed to be weighing the truth of his story. The healer seemed to waver between trying to treat him as “a patient”, and wanting to break down in tears - although Riku wasn't sure who the emotion was directed towards. The only one he couldn't get any sort of read off of was the blonde warrior who had challenged him. Those strange eyes seemed to bore through his very soul. Only once had anything shown in those eyes, and it was submerged before Riku could truly identify it.

In the end, they had consented to allow him a place to stay, since there were very few other options open to him. He had privately decided on one of the more remote rooms, to stay out of the way. The less he had to interact with them, the less he would be reminded of how alone he really was. His footsteps echoed hollowly as he left the uppermost lift station.

One welcome change that had been made was the new lighting system. Magically controlled lights waxed and waned according to normal need patterns, and candle lanterns were provided for additional light. He could have walked this passage blindfolded, but he was glad he didn't have to. By the time he reached his refuge, though, the lights were waning in the interest of sleep. Sleep sounded like a good idea to Riku, but one that proved elusive. He lay on the bed staring at the ceiling for a while, every muscle in his body thrumming with a tension born of the years of watchfulness and the edge of distrust from the others that still followed him.

Some hours after the castle lights had been extinguished; he gave up on it as a lost cause. In complete darkness, he made his way to the archway that led to the balcony. The moon and stars were obscured by incoming storm clouds, and the rising winds held the scent of far-off rain.

Not for the first time, Riku wondered what mind-altering substance had been favored by the palace architect. Every room with a window had a balcony. Even some of the balconies had balconies. This was one of them, and Riku made his way up the stairs that hugged the curve of the wall until he reached a small terrace. The wind was stronger now, and his hair streamed out behind him like strands of moonlight. He stepped out from the stairway, and spread his arms to the storm. The wind plucked at his hair and clothes, inviting him closer to the edge.

He looked out over the banister, feeling the subtle calls of the ground and sky. Even with the castle's inherent magic, a fall from this height in these winds would not be without injury. Still, he felt no desire to withdraw. A particularly chaotic gust threatened to force him over the edge and exhilaration surged through him. If only - if only -

“If only you had wings?” purred a voice behind him.