Chapter 11

11

D joser | Kinnari Temple | Late 1900s

It always fascinated him that no matter how simple-minded most of their kind were, humans always seemed to outcast the fanatics. The fanatics were always right.

There, on the streets of major cities such as Manhattan or Paris, was that loyal army who could always tap into that understanding. They understood that the world was truly in jeopardy.

Djoser felt a mass extinction looming. Whether that was Kinnari, human, or animal, he couldn't tell.

If the Life Gifter wiped Arryn's existence, would everything he created also disappear with him? If the true gods, their creators, somehow were overthrown in their upcoming battle, would their creations follow suit? Djoser didn't know but suspected everything would follow.

It seemed impossible, then, to defend Allienna and Reign from the god's wrath. How could they keep their clan safe?

"Are we ready to go?" Arryn asked as Djoser and Reign stood in their temple, existing between two realms. This place fostered magic with its entrances and exits into the human realm and loomed over his entire childhood. Arryn would create, unwillingly, to release power. Djoser would destroy for the same release, giving the creatures only moments of life.

Reign walked up to Allienna, standing close to the wood-burning stove, and placed her hand on Allienna's still-flat stomach.

"Do not even think about commanding my child in the womb," Allienna said, stepping back but keeping her tone light and playful. The two women were truly best friends and sisters, but Reign always had a questionable way of taking care of people.

"I would never," Reign said, a wink playing in her eyes.

"I could feel your guilt. Whatever it is for, simply do not participate."

Reign took Allienna's hands and kissed the back of her palms before her pleading eyes met Allienna's again.

"I never know what's going on with them," Arryn admitted, pulling Djoser aside, "but it always feels like I'm missing so much."

"That's nature, the balance of power of keeping men in the dark," Djoser said, clapping his hands on Arryn's back. For a moment, he forgot his dislike for the male Kinnari. Though equal in power, Arryn carried all the responsibility. The entire clan came to him for matters of earthly importance. He was their unelected leader, and Djoser carried the weight of the destruction that followed his presence.

"The reason you left us here," Arryn started, "was to prove to yourself that you were capable of goodness. You nurtured life much better than I could have orchestrated if I had tried the same method that you chose. I wonder if Amis chose the same path for a similar reason. Was his need to foster a community of his own genetic makeup only there because he felt a lack of control, limited to what his realm-building magic constrained him to?"

"Amis left after Tristan was mutilated by Vrae, Arryn," Djoser said, shrugging his shoulders. "He was still a child. We all were. What constraints we felt at the time were rarely pushed against. "

"Are you ready for our flight, Reign?" Arryn half shouted across the room. Reign tilted her head, ignoring the males, and continued her conversation with Allienna for a moment before the women hugged each other.

"I am ready," Reign said.

"We don't know how many Vrae have escaped, Allienna," Arryn said, moving swiftly towards her. "We don't know how they entered the Earth realm. We don't know anything."

"I'll be safe," she responded, putting her hand up to Arryn's cheek as he sighed in relief.

"If this is hard to hear, I'm sorry for it, but if something does happen, promise me that you will choose yourself over the baby."

Djoser watched Allienna give a thin lipped nod to Arryn, the room suddenly much more solemn as the three of them turned their backs on her.

Reign, Arryn, and Djoser walked towards the Earth's realm door, leaving Allienna alone. As they exited out into the snow, a storm began to brew, Arryn's stress seeping into the atmosphere around them.

"Calm," Reign's voice echoed through the mountain peak as the storm obeyed. Arryn unleashed his wings and nodded back towards her before lifting off. Djoser followed after Reign also took to the skies.

Djoser was tormented in the air, his mind taking him through every possible outcome of what they were to do. This made their long flight seem like it spanned days, but the three descended, their target a dormant, lush green volcano. Once they landed on the slope, Arryn, Djoser, and Reign immediately pulled their wings back in, conscious of human hikers in the populated area.

The sound of the ocean dancing on the surrounding shore filled Djoser's ears, sending a spike of distress into his chest. Here, they prepared for battle; they were here to grovel for more support, and on this beautiful island, the smiling tourists awaited to lure them all in.

Walking through the vegetation, the trio came out onto a public street with beautiful deep blue waters surrounding them from every angle. A large sign reading "Mt. Maunganui" welcomed them as they marched right past, their savage hair and physical state from flying noticed by all passing hikers.

Arryn and Djoser, shirtless, blended in with the surfing culture of the town. Reign, whose original corset was ripped apart by her wings, stood out immensely as she continued their journey with only her long, dark hair covering her chest.

"Right on ya, free the nipple," an older group of teenagers howled at her encouragingly.

On the main beachfront strip of the town sat a slew of coffee shops and restaurants that mostly were there to serve the tourists. They walked into a restaurant with dark blue siding called the Gin and Crab that didn't have a single light on in the interior, lit exclusively by the many windows as sunshine poured in.

A waitress walked up, clearing her throat and pointing to a sign that read, "No shirt, no service".

"Where's ya' boards?" she asked. "Wicked brave on ya'," she added, nodding towards Reign. "I can't sit ya', so you'll need to come back properly dressed."

"I can take care of that," a smooth voice smoldered the entire restaurant as Amis stepped away from the sit-down bar towards the back. His long black hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and his giant eyes darted between the Kinnari and the waitress. He carried three black garment bags slumped in half over his left forearm.

"One for you," he said, handing one to Reign, before counting out loud until Djoser took a bag for himself.

"My friends here had a long journey. Might they use the washroom to comply with that dress code? Also, they'll be needing drinks. Add three of what I'm having to my tab," he instructed as the waitress pointed to the washrooms down a hallway.

A few minutes later, Djoser walked back out into the restaurant. A solid gray button-down dress shirt and jeans were now struggling not to pop off his muscular frame. He wasn't comfortable here, being the connection the Kinnari had to Amis. He really didn't understand Amis' magic, but something about it made Djoser suspicious that it was much more powerful than he would have ever let on.

Why hide that? Why hide who you are from us?

"Very thoughtful of you to bring the clothes," he managed to say, sitting beside Amis at the bar. The bartender put a whiskey sour down in front of him, which Djoser gulped from greedily.

"It must be so painful for you to be here, to be working towards a common goal with the very Kinnari who marked you a monster," Amis said to him with a feline smile.

Djoser had never heard that word from the lips of his fellow Kinnari. Monster was a moniker he had always struggled to get out of his own head. The deaths he had caused left a large amount of guilt. He worked hard to appear heartless, to brush off the care and the anguish that came with it all.

"Ah, Amis, I missed your ever so polite but savagely creepy demeanor," Djoser laughed. "To be the outcasts," he raised his glass as Amis accepted the cheers, both making eye contact before indulging in their drinks.

"That is revolting," Djoser said, grimacing. "Why is it so sweet?"

Amis laughed heartily, filling the restaurant with the booming nature of his voice as Arryn and Reign walked up. Reign wore an orange backless sundress that tied around her neck. She sat on the bar stool and made the liquid in her glass disappear in a few quick gulps.

"Reign, I am always so surprised by how manly you can be," Amis chuckled.

"I have no appropriate comeback to that insult." She looked at him, burping.

"Never quick with words, I see."

"I thought it best to avoid spewing the violent thoughts that came to my head. We are here to beg for your help after all," she said, holding up a finger to the bartender to ask for another drink. The bartender obliged.

"Of course you need something. Why else would the original clan make the long journey? It couldn't be for a friendly visit, could it?" Amis asked, turning towards Arryn and Djoser with his eyebrows raised high.

"We will be confronting the creators, the gods. We need all of the Waihema villagers who are able-bodied and winged to fight alongside us if there is to be any chance," said Arryn.

Amis stood up from his barstool, drink in hand, and paced a few steps back and forth, considering Arryn's words. He looked up and made eye contact with Djoser before smiling back down at his drink and emptying the cup.

"Djoser," Amis started, "what is my purpose?"

"If we show up in front of the gods with large numbers, maybe no one has to fight," Djoser said. "Maybe they will listen and spare two Kinnari lives."

"Ah, ah, ah," Amis interrupted, "that was not my question."

"You bring things into balance," Reign butted in, waving her left hand in the air like a conductor.

"Thank you, at least someone was listening," Amis mused. "While Reign here forces hands, Arryn creates them, and you, Djoser, destroy those same hands. When those hands are destroyed, the world becomes chaotic and out of balance. The pull on poor Precession's body can be enough to make her collapse until I step in and stick my cock where it wouldn't normally belong."

"Your village, your children are meant to bring the world into balance? Do you not do that in other ways?" Arryn asked, confused.

"You were the first to leave after Tristan's death; we never got to see your abilities develop properly," Reign jumped in.

"That's bullshit, and you know it." Amis pointed at Reign with as much disrespect in his eyes as he would allow to show.

"My children, my village, are not here to bring the world into balance. They only exist to bring our magic into balance."

Djoser sat there in silence, contemplating what this could mean. When was magic not in balance? Were he and Arryn not magical opposites?

"What is happening that puts magic out of balance?" Arryn asked, his voice breathy and shaky. Djoser noticed the shadows hovering just above Arryn's fingertips, his need for creation manifesting.

Amis noticed it as well, his eyes darting between Arryn and Djoser. "I think we are ready for the journey to Waihema. Arryn, some cloud cover could be helpful. It will be an hour's journey south through the skies."

Arryn nodded, visible relief spreading across his temples, the lines in his forehead disappearing while he closed his eyes, and the natural light from the windows dimmed and grayed.

Amis paid their bill, and the four exited the restaurant onto the street. They moved to the back alley, one by one spreading their wings and shooting straight up into the air until they were past Arryn's low, dense clouds.

Djoser followed the three, trailing behind purposely as they flew southwest, until he pulled his shoes off of his feet mid-air, landing with his toes in the green ocean waters. Reign, Arryn, and Amis turned towards him, wearing a mixture of expressions that signified that he, too, should have followed and landed in the sand. Djoser enjoyed his brief moment of being a nuisance, kicking the water up before him as he stepped up and out of the tide.

"It's not often I get a beach vacation," he shrugged, a satisfied gleam in his eye. Djoser looked ahead, past the beach, into the thick forest before him. It was his first visit to Waihema, yet all he could smell was the comforting aroma of death and decay. The smell faintly reminded him of the tombs in Egypt, the sacred places where he bade farewell to his mortal rulers, the puppets on his strings.

Amis saw Djoser's nostrils flare as he caught up to them, and the four marched up to the forest together. In a near-synchronized motion, their wings tucked in and disappeared from view. They now traveled with noticeable distance between each body without their wingspans to accommodate.

"That smell is from the trees," Amis said to Djoser. "They're fossilized."

Djoser didn't believe a word of it, but nodded in agreement. He couldn't tell if the other two noticed, but something was wrong. This wasn't the happy, peaceful native village he had heard stories about.

"Maybe one day I can come and see the land you created as well," Amis said to Djoser with sincerity.

"My home will always welcome Kinnari. We are depicted in hieroglyphics that lay uncovered and in national museums, though no one living knows me as such these days. Mortal technology has made trust nearly impossible."

They reached a dirt path that opened up into a clearing. Small huts lined the path on each side, and a staged communal area sat as the focal point. Djoser followed behind the others as Amis marched them past Waihema villagers of all ages. Children who ran around and chased one another quickly froze in their tracks after laying eyes on Amis. Adult women and men stopped working on their chores to bow, keeping their eye contact steady.

A young toddler girl wearing a light teal dress ran up and tugged on Djoser's hand, smiling widely.

"Kai kollei kie kii te tialkil i a mātauj?" she asked, her high-pitched melodic voice ringing through the pathway as the adults stared with startled wide eyes.

"She is a child!" Her mother ran up to them, grabbing the girl and bending into a deep bow before Djoser. "She doesn't yet know."

"Know what?" Djoser asked with nothing but kindness and concern in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't speak this language?—"

"We can get to know the villagers later if you wish," Amis cut him off. "But right now, we need to introduce you to the council."

Djoser nodded and gave the toddler and her mother a smile as he turned to follow. Amis led Arryn, Reign, and Djoser past the open communal area, walking around a small stage. As he passed, Djoser, again, couldn't shake the stench of death. It was so fresh and so brutal. Could this be from fossilized trees? He doubted so but, instinctually, fell a few more steps behind to put more distance between himself and Amis.

The dirt path continued on the other side until it became a three-way junction. The left side went up a small hill that led to a building similar in style to the huts Djoser passed as they entered the village. The difference was its size and its grandeur. This building had significance here, higher in elevation than the rest of the village, sitting on the top of the forest, overseeing all.

The sun seemed to set perfectly aligned with the small point of the roof, a balance of the forest and sky.

"What do you think? Of everything I have built so far?" Amis slowed so he could walk by Djoser.

"There does seem to be a perfect sort of harmony here, though I expect nothing less from you, dear friend," Djoser said, looking genuinely at the other Kinnari who, like him, had outcast himself from their clan. Everyone left to live their own lives, but Amis and Djoser left when they were little more than children.

"Let's go in," Amis said, slapping Djoser on the back as they followed Reign and Arryn through the doorless entrance.

The room was naturally dark, with only a skylight in the ceiling to let in small amounts of natural light. Smoke from a centered fire billowed upwards as a semi-circle of Waihema villagers sat cross-legged on a carpet over the dirt floor.

"A new child has arrived," said a woman, the light from the fire illuminating her withered skin. A long silver braid came down over her shoulder and the way that the rest of the seated semi-circle averted their eyes from their new visitors suggested that she was the leader here.

"Dear Mother of Waihema," Amis began, "I brought you visitors from the skies. The first-ever visit from the ones that are like me."

Hushed whispers broke out from the rest of the seated tribespeople. Djoser counted eight of them, all women. Djoser opened his mouth, unsure if what he saw was odd.

"Are they all . . . "

"Pregnant," Reign said breathlessly, nodding her head.

The old woman stood up with the support of the young mothers on each side of her, jumping to pull her up to her feet despite the heaviness protruding from their abdomens. They looked like teenagers .

"These eight-woman," Amis directed at his visitors, "have all borne children with the Kinnari mark before. They are honored here as breeders."

"Did you come here for our dead? Were you hoping to claim our protectors as your warriors?" the old woman asked as she hobbled towards them, her eyes fiercely focused on Amis.

Amis turned, his back now towards the circle.

"Take me to the child, Mother Waihema," he called towards the elder and walked right back out of the large ceremonial hut.

Reign and Arryn moved to keep up while Djoser stood frozen on the floor. He watched as the pregnant women struggled to get up and assist the old mother, following the Kinnari male leading the way.

Djoser walked behind the group, the last to make his way back down onto the dirt pathway. His steps echoed those in front of him as they turned not back toward the huts that the civilians lived in but walked in the opposite direction, where the path split into three directions.

He weaved through more trees as the path continued into a denser forest. The hairs on his arms stood straight up when suddenly he heard a brutal scream.

Djoser broke into a run, catching up with the pregnant woman that was in front of him as they entered into a clearing. Another scream filled the forest, followed by panting that was previously muted by distance.

"This is what you disturbed by inserting your presence here," Mother Waihema said to Djoser while he walked past her, the expression on his face holding concern and aggression.

"What is this place?" he asked.

The old woman laughed behind him as Djoser walked towards the screams. He approached a woman lying down in the grass in the middle of the clearing,, the lower half of her tunic covered in red blood.

"She's giving birth," Reign said, grabbing Djoser's hand and pulling him towards where she stood with the others, watching.

The woman on the ground was in agony, panting savagely, rattling the trees. Djoser felt sick, the smell of death more prominent than ever. He had been in wars, killed with his own hands, killed with his magic, and never smelled anything like this before.

"There is so much life here," Arryn turned to Djoser, smiling. "So much creation and peace. I feel powerful, renewed. I get it, I get what Amis is trying to do here."

Amis, hearing Arryn's words, smiled, nodding in approval.

"Balance; here we balance the magic," he added. "It makes sense that you would be feeling that way. It would be a natural impulse for someone like you."

The woman in the field screamed again, propping herself up with her arms and her legs spread wide in front of her.

"It feels incredible, like Allienna is here, calming, pulling the aggression out of the creation of energy," Arryn added, rubbing his hands together and studying them.

"You're acting . . . normal," Reign said, not bothering to hide her distrust.

Djoser felt it too. He felt the incredibly loose feeling that Amis pulled in around him. It was like drinking two bottles of wine with the promise of no hangover, only constant energy and the need to dance, the need to fuck. The difference, however, was Djoser could feel that it was artificial; there was no truth to it. Something was being hidden.

"No one helps her," Mother Waihema commanded, pushing her arms back to restrain a few of the pregnant women and their attempts to come closer to the shrieking and agony that was presented before them.

Djoser listened to the cries for what felt like hours, watching Arryn drunkenly hum to his toes while Reign occasionally placed a steadying hand on his shoulders.

Finally, with the sound of surrender, the woman in the field reached her hand in between her legs and pulled as the sound of an infant's cry carried through the air.