Chapter 1

1

A ryn | Ancient Rome | 47 B.C

Arryn laid flat on his cell floor and unwillingly listened to the moans of male and female pleasure. He had given up falling asleep hours ago and expected the sun to be rising soon. Another day of training and beatings was not exactly the type of self-punishment he set out for.

The Kinnari male had been placed here months ago. Despite the initial excitement of Arryn's sheer size, he had done his best to create a reputation for being soft. The man who owned him spent a fortune to buy him, only to spit at his feet for being a terrible investment.

A bag of coins hit the stone floor. The sound of gold echoed through the long hallway and signaled the end of the transaction. A transaction that everyone in the cells was forced to listen to. Having sex with a prized gladiator was the latest status symbol among the wives of wealthy Roman aristocrats.

None of the prisoners would dare touch that coin, though it could go a long way to paying for their freedom. The riches would go to the Magistri or the Lanista, whoever was more debauched that day.

The morning bell echoed, a somber symphony blending with the muffled footsteps of a child servant. Doors squeaked open, and mortal men shuffled toward the ritualistic baths and chamber pots. Arryn, too, rose to his feet to begin the day.

He felt the weight of his tangled emotions that morning. The prison walls seemed to dissolve as he replayed his memory.

The laughter and early days of discovery with his original Kinnari clan made him ache with regret. His fingers, once tangled in his golden hair, now felt the crisp touch of snowflakes in a world where his powers were a secret.

"Make it stop, make it stop," Arryn's young self cried out to Allienna. She put her soft hands around his face and stared into his eyes, filled with focus and intensity. The pain, the fire underneath his skin, lessened, giving him instant relief. Allienna's hands began to tremble as she absorbed all that he felt to take it away.

They grew up in an exact portal realm copy of Earth. A sea of white on the top of the Himalayan mountains.

"You have to use your power, Arryn. You cannot live with this heat under your skin. More importantly, I cannot live with it."

Even as a child, Allienna carried both wisdom and softness in her tone, making things that could be difficult to hear sound melodic and sweet.

"I cannot give him the satisfaction. I will not be a pawn," Aaron yelled at the sky with frustration.

"The gifter," she began, "he's not all that bad. He couldn't be since he created me." She smiled, tucking her mousy brown hair behind her ear. The young Kinnari beamed with a little mischief and a childlike wonder.

Arryn didn't take the bait, letting himself fall deeper into his torturous mental and physical imprisonment. He slumped away from her, and her face fell slightly.

"Arryn, you will use your power to create now," said a high-pitched, demanding voice over Allienna's shoulder. Another member of their youthful clan stomped up. Reign, tired of listening to Arryn's self-loathing, decided to end the conversation. Her demands could not be denied; it was one of Reign's many gifts.

Arynn jumped up to his feet, the magic forcing him to obey. He picked up a handful of snow before he tossed it into the air. The anger on his youthful face was apparent as the snow flitted down and then floated, changing into a beautiful white baby owl.

"Feeling better?" Reign stuck out her tongue, with no expectation of getting a thank you. Allienna giggled behind him, and with the pressure that grew inside him released, he turned to match her joy. This was the first time when he realized that he loved Allienna. He loved how she cared for him, how her kindness reminded him that he wasn't only the god's tool, he was someone who could love and be loved in return. Allienna scooped up the baby owl, her eyes locking with Arryn's, wide and round, as he watched her get lost in his.

Arryn felt a sudden stab as a piece of broken stone flooring cracked and pressed into his foot. A small bead of dark blue blood, proof of his divinity, beaded out onto the skin. The wound healed almost immediately while Arryn wiped the blood away with his hand so no one would notice.

He then proceeded to toss on a mid-sleeved simple wool tunic, covering the raised triangular shapes in the skin on his shoulder blades. After fastening his sandals, Arryn walked out of his cell and followed his brotherhood. He chuckled after he noticed that one of them was now walking with a slight limp.

"A single tournament win and suddenly the celebrity of it all has turned me into whore," the gladiator limping complained to him. "I am a mere man, Arryn. I cannot train to fight all day and perform for countless women all night."

"Soon you'll buy your freedom, brother." Arryn tapped on the man's shoulders as gently as he could, still making him wince despite his care. "Then you'll have full control over how many rich women you are forced to bed, should you choose to stay."

The rest of the morning was uneventful as Arryn moved through the food hall with his first serving of wheat and barley. The food might have been the most tortuous part of this whole ordeal. Otherwise, he found he quite liked most of the constant company. It had been hundreds of years since the entire clan was together and he yearned for that time back.

When he was good and punished, he would leave his chosen enslavement and convince Allienna, Reign, and the others to all live in the temple again. The last passage through the portal had become a distant memory—five hundred, maybe six hundred years overdue.

The gladiators were all ushered outside after their morning meal, Arryn towering over every single one of them. He was a few inches shy of seven feet tall, looking like a mixture of a Viking warrior and a Roman deity. To avoid shedding his immortal blood, he often gave victory to whoever he trained with. Today, a small seventeen-year-old boy, nothing more than skin and bones, ran up to him to claim him as the day's training partner.

Arryn smiled at the boy, taking in the heat of the training grounds. The rock-hard pale earth seemed to only reflect the sun up towards itself. Without a living plant in the vicinity, the smaller arena seemed like nothing more than a larger cell, holding all forty or fifty of their bodies at once.

"What do you want to train with today?" Fabius, the scrawny seventeen-year-old, asked Arryn. The men all walked over to the racks of training weapons, made up of wooden swords, spears, nets, and shields.

"I'll take a net and a shield; you take a shield and a sword." Arryn grinned broadly back at Fabius.

"Arryn," shouted the Magistri, "when will we make use of your body mass? It seems all you have to do is sit on your opponent, and yet you can't even be bothered to pick up and wield a sword. There are no gentle giants here; someone paid good money for you."

The Magistri was an older mortal man with short, graying hair, once a glorious fighter himself. Now he had been promoted to head trainer. Arryn thought of him as a drunken, corrupt man. A true product of his life circumstances, yet an ass nevertheless.

"All due respect, Magistri, I'm a farmer and not a fighter. I prefer to create life rather than take it." Arryn took the net that Fabius skipped towards him, holding out a shield. He ran back over to the weaponry racks, avoiding other gladiators already engaging in combat to procure his weapons.

"Look at that," the Magistri laughed, "never have won a battle, yet you seem to have a servant boy here at your disposal." He took a swig from a leather pocket flask before hiding it back under his tunic.

Arryn nodded at Fabius, signaling to move into a starting position. Fabius had to give his all to hold up the wooden sword and shield.

The boy had been captured alongside Arryn in the fields by slave traders who needed new stock. Arryn had chosen to place himself there, on that farm, just the day prior. He had to get away from the sobbing, from Allienna's broken heart. He was there to work away his guilt, to return to their temple and continue a mundane life without fights, without apologies.

It was his fault, her pain; it was always his fault. This was the best way he knew how to repent.

Fabius, on the other hand, had been violently torn from his home. His father traded him for a handful of coins, callously disregarding Fabius's status as the eldest son, likely due to his small frame.

The boy's gaze remained fixed on the ground, concealing the torrent of emotions that bubbled beneath the surface. For thirty long hours, Fabius withheld any outward display of sorrow, standing resolute in the cramped confines of the barred cart. That cart had then inexorably carried them back to the heart-wrenching spectacle of the slave auction, and now, here they were.

Arryn had made a small internal promise that Fabius would have nothing to fear from him. He would instead find a friend and true support. Public rejection from one's family was the worst kind of banishment that Arryn could have ever imagined and yet, the boy stood there and endured.

Fabius launched himself towards Arryn, having the power to raise his sword above his head before thrusting it diagonally towards him. Arryn put up his shield to block the blow, and the boy flashed him a goofy smile.

"That's getting better," Arryn said as Fabius jumped back. Arryn held out his net and flung it sideways, cutting through the air as it narrowly missed hitting another gladiator's arm. It boomeranged around almost supernaturally until it hit Fabius, wrapping itself around him like a tangled rope.

Shit , Arryn thought. That was too good.

The Magistra jumped up out of his relaxed position, scratching his head.

"What in Hades?" He cursed under his breath. "Where were you hiding that talent?"

"Beginner's luck." Arryn tried to shrug it off and made sure to trip over his feet a few times before letting Fabius clumsily smack him with the sword. The Magistri grew bored and moved on to some more aggressive fighters, letting Arryn relax. Fabius grinned from ear to ear, thankful the attention was off him as well, and the two continued their practice over the next few hours. Once weapons were hung back on the racks and most of the men were covered in fresh scrapes and bruises, the group, collectively sore, marched back into the mess hall for their evening meal.

The heavy aroma of sweat and anticipation hung thick in the dimly lit mess hall. As the massive wooden doors creaked open, the rhythmic clinking of sandals against stones filled the hall. A dusting of the arena sand clung to Arryn's body while the flickering torches lining the hall flickered along the scars across his companions's faces.

Arryn sat at a small communal table not yet occupied, but was soon followed by Fabius and other fighters. The clatter of wooden utensils against pottery resumed, accompanied by conversations and warmth. Halfway through the meal, the doors banged wide open, drawing everyone's attention .

There stood the Magistri, the Lanista, a few guards brandishing their swords, and, to everyone's surprise, a woman. A woman who was not being snuck through the servant's corridors for coin, a woman who was proudly presented in front of the entire camp.

Arryn rolled his eyes, already guessing what this was about. The woman was hidden behind a dark green, hooded cloak, a modern color for this period, which gave her away immediately. He had only been here a few months. Why pull him out of his glutinous punishment so early? He wasn't ready to look into Allienna's eyes, to see the sadness that they held.

The woman lowered her hood as the room fell silent. Her beauty was ethereal, goddess-like. Her plump lips and oval face, framed by dark hair pulled into a knot, indicated that she was not a city resident. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for Arryn.

"There, I want him," she said into the Lanista's ear.

"Don't be fooled, ma'am. I am happy to take your coin, but his lack of aggression outweighs his sheer size," the Lanista, the owner of all the men in the room, shared with her privately.

"I am sure. You will sell me the one I requested." She showed clean, pearly white teeth, a symbol of royalty or great wealth. The man fumbled, nodding at her in haste as she drew out a bag of coins, setting it in the Lanista's open palm.

"You there," she said, meeting Arryn's disinterested gaze. "You will leave your belongings and come with me."

Arryn felt his will bending; not that he would have resisted, as it would have drawn too much attention to himself. He stood up and placed a hand on Fabius's shoulder as a farewell gesture. He would miss his young friend.

"The rest of you may resume as you were," the woman puffed under her breath as the room resumed its general chatter.

"Will you be taking him back to China, ma'am? Will he be used in the trade routes?" the Magistri asked.

"My payment was not contingent on answers to questions," she mused, pulling her hood back over her head and looking up at Arryn as he approached. He leaned forward, bending into a small bow .

"No time for that," she snapped, "we must leave at once." She turned and walked out through the open doors that led into the training arena. Arryn followed, hearing the thud of the heavy wooden doors closing behind him.

He continued after her, leaving ample space in between their bodies to keep up with the characters they were playing, still hiding their true nature from wandering eyes as they approached the exit gates.

The three soldiers, fellow senior gladiators who were upper-class freemen looking for glory, halted their conversation to focus on the woman walking toward them. They straightened up and bowed their heads, pointing beyond the gate as a signal that they were free to go.

Once they both had walked through, they faced a singular dirt path leading to the staged fighting Colosseum. Arryn could see its greatness in the distance, an unthinkably large arena adorned with the hand-sculpted statues of the Roman gods and goddesses. The Colosseum was surrounded by fine cobblestone and full, green fig trees with foot traffic all around.

"It looks like you will have to miss your first performance," Reign said to Arryn, whirling around to face him. She smiled, such a familiar and reassuring sight that Arryn couldn't help but return the enthusiasm. Reign was the closest thing he had to a best friend, a sister. She had always been there to be playful, to be brutally honest, and she never once had ever held back when telling Arryn exactly how wrong he was.

"They wouldn't have put me in. The competing gladiators would have been offended to fight someone with my skill set. I worked hard to present an image. I protected a boy."

The two walked three miles up the hill, and the city presented itself before them. Plush bushes and smaller trees surrounded them, smelling of sweet plums.

Arryn's skin began to burn with an invisible fire once again. He twitched his fingers, trying to hide that agony from the Kinnari woman in front of him.

"When was the last time you unleashed your talents?" she asked him. They exited the path into the coverage of the trees as carts and pedestrians could be seen coming up the trail. "It does not matter." She pursed her lips. "Arryn, I am hungry, and these plums will not do. You will bestow upon me an apple tree with the sweetest red apples I will ever taste."

Arryn gave her a look of extreme annoyance and disapproval. She could see the fight in his eyes to ignore her command. If there was one being able to do it on this mortal Earth, it would likely be him. Sadly, he still needed another millennium of practice to strengthen his will and accomplish that resistance. He stiffened as her magic took hold, bending him to her need.

He bent down, touching the trunk of a grown plum tree. Reign watched as the genetic makeup of the tree changed in front of her eyes. The leaves fell swiftly, forming piles, as new circular leaves with a deeper pigment of green emerged. Flowers grew and bloomed within seconds, and forty or so apples blossomed. They were small and green at first. Reign reached out her hand, grabbing the fruit as it finished growing and ripening to a lovely bright red. She plucked it off its branch and brought it to her lips, smelling the sweetness before taking a bite.

"I wouldn't believe you if you told me that you feel lighter," Reign mocked, her grin full of glory and pride.

It was true, Arryn did feel better. The fire under his skin had evaporated. While he was familiar with how his body reacted to his refusal of creation, unleashing himself back into the earth had always made him feel reborn.

"Now then," Reign continued, leaving the apple tree behind her. "I must know what the crime was this time. What was the cause of this particularly creative self-punishment? Enslaving yourself? How you were not sold to the mines is beyond me, but I suppose mortals always seem to sense that there is a value to you," she mused. Arryn could see the gears in her head spinning as her eyes wandered to the distant veranda.

"Pain. I seem only to bring Allienna pain," Arryn replied, his heart shattered .

"Allienna pulls inside what someone is feeling. They become her feelings. If you hurt, Allienna should choose to pull that pain away from you as she has always done," Reign said, repeating information that was neither comforting nor new.

"This time, it was different," Arryn admitted, his fingers sparking as he flicked his fingers out of the frustration of the memory. "This time, she wanted a child. A real child that grows in her belly."

Reign turned sharply, eyes fixed on Arryn's.

"She's never told me about that desire."

"She has not told anyone. It is shameful to her. We have tried for hundreds of years to make a child organically. True Kinnari wombs are . . ."

"They are not made to create. We don't bleed as mortal women do," Reign cut in.

"I tried to create a child inside her womb. I thought I could do this since I pull atoms together, creating something new. I was wrong."

"She miscarried. She must have," Reign said softly, eyes lined with tears, as she knew too well the burden of infertility.

"There were forty or so attempts that did not make it."

Silence followed, and Arryn felt the need to fill it.

"I suggested that I create a human baby. I could place it in her arms. It would not be a biological child, technically, but I could pull some pieces of DNA from both of us. She called me heartless. She said it would feel like holding a doll, empty and unattached to her. The fight continued from there, and she left in tears."

"She doesn't think you are a monster; she was just hurt," Reign said, putting her hand on Arryn's back in comfort.

"Allienna, my life love, is in agony, and I cannot give her what she desires. If I can not create something so simple for her, then what is the point of any of this? Why am I here on this Earth? What is the purpose behind the Gifter's choice to create us?"

Arryn pulled down the branch of a tree they passed as the two continued to move their feet in any direction, neither of them walking with a destination. Having no answers, Reign turned back to Arryn .

"Do you want to know why I came to release you?"

"Do go on." He waved his hand at her to continue. A breeze rustled the orchard trees, creating a symphony around them.

Reign bit her lip.

"It was a few days ago. I was flying, accelerating a bit too fast, going in and out of time accidentally. When I landed, I was about two thousand years in the future. You're going to love that period, I think." She smiled. "I stayed for a few months, made a home, and enjoyed learning about that culture. Gods do not exist in the mortal mind then as they do now; it's a large burden off of our existence."

Arryn never got to hear specifics about Reign's time traveling. Any little change could have a potentially fatal effect on a future outcome. She was banned from disclosing anything about it.

"What happened?" His hair stood on the end of his forearms. "Why are you telling me about this?"

"I don't know when or how it happened. I have so few details. When I walked through that time, Allienna had already died an immortal death. Vrae roamed the earth. You were at war with the Gifter."

Arryn was stunned into silence.

"Why . . . who . . . why are you telling me this?" His voice was soft.

Reign dropped her cloak, revealing a sleeved backless dress that was sophisticated yet certainly scandalous for their current period.

"The Gifter wanted to meet with me. He knew I would tell you about Allienna. He knew that it would cause a chain reaction. Kamakura wanted me dead for changing the tapestry of her future. I have been told that I will see death for my actions. I'm assuming Djoser will be forced to carry out the honors. I wanted to tell you before it happened. I needed you to be prepared for it all with us both gone."

"We shall gather everyone at the temple and hold a council. There, we will make a plan," Arryn announced, softening his hands.

Reign smiled with sad enthusiasm. "After you."

Throwing off the front of his tunic, leaving his chest bare and exposed to the sunset, the skin of Arynn's shoulder blades violently ripped open. Large wings, four times the size of the man, appeared. They were smooth and cyan blue with streaks of gold, reflecting the color and pattern in his eyes.

Arryn took three large strides with his legs before jumping into the sky, letting air catch in his wings. With a supernatural speed, he found himself above the clouds, waiting only a moment before Reign's dark brown and gray wings joined him in flight.