Prologue

PROLOGUE

T here was no moon in the sky that night. The elders had said to expect its absence when a new protector bore wings for the first time. It would be the first time Emere would see a wing ceremony. The new protector, marked from birth, was her nineteen-year-old brother.

Emere did not bear the Kinnari mark on her shoulder blades as her brother did. Sometimes, she would get jealous of the attention he received from the elders. Sometimes, she yearned to have the mark, too. That night, however, she felt thankful that she had only the smallest drop of magic in her blood.

The crimson color that pulsed through her veins reminded her that she was still, in some way, less than. Yet the magic she did have allowed her to live when many infants were torn away from their mothers, which she was thankful for. She didn't complain.

Salted volcanic ash water dripped from her toes as she stared out into the horizon, chewing on her fingernails while her other hand clasped tightly over a smooth stone. Seven winters, she had survived thus far. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear, blending in with the shades of tree bark surrounding her, and skipped the stone into the ocean waters.

As she turned back toward the forest, the voices of her elders echoed through the trees as they began the ceremony chants and songs. Her feet gathered dirt and mud, still wet from the shore, as she headed towards the warmth of her village.

Darkness engulfed her as she felt her way there, climbing through branches, and heading towards the light of the ceremony fire. She was not afraid of this place, as the lore taught her that she had once survived an attack from the glowing red eyes that haunted the wooded surroundings. When she could have been the feed for the monsters that plagued their dreams, she was spared. An infant in a bassinet untouched, easy prey that was picked up by human-like hands, and slipped carefully back into her family's hut.

She would visit the forest as she grew, her curiosity unrivaled, her youth making her foolish, and she would catch glimpses of him. The man who protected her, the monster that sometimes looked like a man with dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. He would talk to her sometimes, offering her sweets she had never seen before, warning her to stay away from his kind.

She had already known that, though.

Emere snagged her leg on a thick stump and fell, drops of blood pooling on the surface of her skin. The child continued moving quickly, worried she might miss something important. Her cut stung in the night air, and she was unaware of the multiple pairs of bright red eyes watching and waiting, awoken by the smell of her blood.

The chant she heard from the village reflected the legend of the ceremony. She had heard the story often enough throughout her youth, though now she winced, knowing the pain her brother would endure.

"Winged god, fell in love's embrace,

Left divine tribe for mortal grace.

Wings unfold, in shadows they dance,

Magic in blood, a mystical trance .

Centuries lived, protectors of kin,

Waihema rises, and new life begins.

Children grow with wings unfurled,

Guardians born in an ancient world.

Tonight, we meet, under no moon's glow,

Mortal god Waihema's new arrow."

Emere stepped onto a man-made dirt path, finally illuminated, and pulled herself out of the darkness of the forest. Embers from the ceremony fire had started to creep onto her skin, searing and making her hiss. She stared in wonder at the size of the flames. There were still twenty or so huts between her and the ceremony circle.

A few of her neighbors jumped out of the doorless, cheerless dwellings partially sunken into the earth. There was nothing luxurious about them. Despite a very modern world that lived just beyond this forest, the tribe lived as their ancestors had, to protect what was sacred. To preserve the magic in their blood.

Emere bent down to enter her hut, the fourth one on the right side of the path. The interior floor was covered with a hand-woven rug dyed with deep indigos and greens. There were only four walls. Her household shared a small space. A bed for her mother was pushed in the north corner, and two smaller single beds existed against the southern wall for Emere and her brother. Her mother told her stories of her father, of the powerful creature with wings who had sired half the children that she played with, but she had yet to meet him. She wondered if she would.

Hunu was sitting on his bed, hunched over. He was so large that, in comparison, the bed looked like it was made for Emere's dolls. His dark, tan skin made him seem like a shadow since the space held little light. He rocked back and forth, panting, with his head in his hands. Small triangular shapes of raised flesh lay on each of his shoulder blades. The Kinnari mark that their father had gifted him. These marks signaled where there would soon be wings.

Hunu would be strong, large, and made for fighting. Though not immortal, his wings would grant him centuries of natural life. In Emere's village, Hunu would serve as their salvation from the stories she heard of the creatures that lived in the forest.

A shout of pain escaped Hunu's lips. He wrapped his arms around himself so his hands could grasp his shoulder blades. Someone outside had jumped to attention, their footsteps thudding up to the dwelling in haste. A familiar, lovely face dipped under the door to study Hunu. Emere's mother looked plagued with worry, a deep line forming between her brows.

"Come into the light."

Emere bounced into the small strip of light framed by the door while Hunu stumbled and dragged himself upright. He stepped into view, blood, thick and dark blue, streaked down the sides of his body.

Hunu's eyes stung with tears. It was clear that his body had been deteriorating with every exhale as he trembled from pain.

"You're ready. It's time." Their mother nodded, her face withered from years of labor and service to her village. If she had any feelings of pride or panic for her firstborn, she did not let her eyes reveal them. Their mother would be his rock tonight.

Hunu puffed out his chest, holding back a whimper, keeping his jaw clenched tight. He ducked his head under the dwelling door and followed his mother into the village. Not wanting to be left behind, Emere followed, while counting the dark blue droplets of blood that speckled the ground behind her brother's trail.

The small family walked in silence along the pathway that led up to the ceremony circle. A modest wooden stage was illuminated by the fire, waiting for her brother.

Fellow tribe members gathered and watched as others performed with pride. Women stood on one side, singing up towards the sky. Opposite them stood a group of men moving through a series of warrior poses in rhythm with the song.

A shadow passed over the crowd, a silhouette of large wings as if it had quickly flown above them. As if it were fleeing.

"Did you see that?" she shouted, but no one heard over the roar of the festivities.

"Take your place." Hunu's mother ushered her son through the crowd and up to the steps of the stage. He obeyed, revealing his bloodied shoulders to all who were there to watch. The chanting grew louder, deeper.

Emere stood and watched her brother on the stage as he slumped into a low squat, humming with the song that floated in the air. A small pool of blood gathered under him. His eyes were closed, and he bared his teeth. His hands trembled at his sides from pain. He turned around and yelled, from deep within his core, to the heavens above. The yell was both a call for help and a song, melodic yet murderous, his aggression inching its way up from beneath his skin.

Bone became visible, sticking out from his shoulder blades. It looked flexible and inched out slowly, shredding more of Hunu's skin as it grew wider and thicker. The color turned from white to onyx, as dark as Hunu's eyes, as he prayed into the night sky for mercy.

A mix of high-pitched screaming and deep bellows blended to create a feeling of deafening fright. This was Waihema pride. Emere took a step back, hands over her ears as her brother shouted again and again. Agony pulsed through his body as more of his skin was ripped apart at his shoulder blades.

She regretted coming. She was not ready for this. Emere wished she were back on the shore as the water calmly rinsed the sand off of her toes.

"Sorry," she yelped, startled. Emere whirled around after she realized that she had stepped on a small foot. It was a young girl with no more than three years of life. The child looked at her with big, bright eyes that were also terrified. The young girl clenched tightly to her doll, woven from old, repurposed baskets. Emere kneeled to her level and scooped her in towards her body into a hug.

"It's okay, I've got you now," she whispered to her, thankful for the distraction. If she couldn't be strong for herself, she could be strong while protecting someone else.

"That's my brother up there; his name is Hunu," she explained. "We must be thankful that some of our villagers develop to protect us from anything that hides in the shadows. My momma told me that we have not had a protector since the last one died thirty years ago. For the first time in both of our lives, we will sleep safely tonight."

Emere looked back up at the stage, startled by an instant quieting. Everyone around her was still, their faces like stone.

An elderly woman given the most respected position in their village, known through the generations as Mother Waihema, let out a long raspy moan of mellisonant breath to signal a new chapter of the ceremony. Emere watched as next, her mother stepped up to the stage, holding a headdress that seemed larger than its carrier. It boasted yellow, teal, and black feathers with carved soft stone and gems.

Hunu, panting with his hands and feet touching the stage floor, did his best not to move. He waited, trembling. The headdress was lifted high for all to see as Emere's mother placed it on her son's head, signaling the ceremony's completion.

"Rise, rise for all of Waihema," Mother Waihema called out. The rest of the village obeyed, chanting louder.

Hunu gathered his strength. His body shook as if weighed down by hundreds of pounds, yet he pushed through and rose to a full standing position.

He opened his arms out to his sides. It was slow work, like a newborn being pulled from the womb, but Hunu released the full width of his new wings. They were powerful, an onyx black with dark notes of green. They measured four times the length of his body, heavy with muscle and skin that had not existed only moments ago.

The village members began applauding and praying, a stagnant weight lifted from the air. Emere looked at the little girl still in her arms and giggled in victory. He had survived.

The two girls both began to dance to the clapping rhythm that the entire village now came together to create. Big smiles and relief showed on every villager's face. The faint smell of a feast being prepared floated through the air.

Emere watched her brother clumsily descend the stairs of the stage. His legs struggled under the weight, bowing with each step. It would take a few days, but he would grow his strength. He would even soon learn to be airborne, something that Emere had been hearing about in bedtime stories since she could remember. It was real, all of this magic. She finally got to see it.

Though no one heard it at first, a high-pitched scream sounded in the distance over the celebration. Then there was another. Then another.

Emere alone noticed it and turned towards the huts, putting down the toddler and heading towards the call of distress. Her feet carried her, her round cheeks low with worry. Women were too often giving birth in this village, and she assumed a new mother had gone into labor utterly alone.

She continued to follow the scream, which grew weaker yet sounded nearer. She passed three huts and peered over into the shadows between them.

Emere choked, trying to suppress her scream.

There was something there in the shadows. She could see little of it other than red glowing eyes in the dark shadows. The dirt and grass it stood over was covered in blood as it tore into flesh, the body of a woman.

Emere kept her hand over her mouth, afraid to breathe too loudly. She tip-toed out of the creature's view and then turned to run at full speed. Her eyes searched for her mother.

To her horror, she was too late.

The entire tribe was desperately pleading for their lives, calling out to Hunu for salvation. Five red-eyed monsters, the same as Emere's childhood stories, were ravaging, killing, and feasting on villagers' bodies. They were eerily human in size and shape and, with the firelight, she could now see their smooth, oil-black skin and sharp, dagger-shaped teeth.

Emere couldn't move.

She couldn't do anything but watch as her brother, weakened and bloodied from the ceremony, rushed to his mother's side. His wings were uncontrolled. Women and children ran towards him, hoping for protection, but found themselves unconscious. Hunu's wings collided with villagers every time he turned and pivoted.

One of the larger of the monsters had appeared in front of her brother. It smiled, jaw unhinged, at the glory of Hunu's wings.

Hunu bared his teeth at the beast, standing strong in his new role as village protector. The creature opened its jaws, splitting its head horizontally in half, and clamped down. Hunu's head was dislodged clean off of his neck.

A shower of dark blue Kinnari blood attracted the other creatures. They yelped and ravaged Hunu's still-standing body and wings, leaving bones behind.

A monster stood on the other side of the ceremony site watching, its mouth open as if it experienced the same fear. Its teeth rescinded, jaw shortened as it shifted into the man with almond-shaped eyes who ran towards her, hand outstretched, yelling.

"Not her."

Emere saw the doll that the little girl had clenched earlier. It was limp in the dirt, stained red and blue from the mixture of blood. The doll would be the last thing she would ever see as a creature's piercing red eyes appeared behind her, not waiting to use its teeth.