A god’s breath whirled through Sernia’s crowded market streets like a tempest, loosening stall tarps and chasing away a murder of jackdaws. Their harsh caws filled the air and the tarp corners snapped in the wind. Sharp grains of sand buffeted wingmen, their leathery wings lifted to protect eyes and ears from the scouring dust.

As quickly as the windstorm began, it ended when Aleeya Mero, Mapmaker, Mundus, goddess of maps, settled behind her husband. She stood, peering around his black wings at an array of dried fruit he’d been perusing before she arrived.

Veritas Mero still wore the fine breeches from their wedding, but someone must have loaned him the hunter-green halter covering his bandaged torso. And the sword strapped down the center of his back between his great wings appeared familiar, but it wasn't his. Something about the large sword tugged at her heart, but her gaze fell on the piercings at the apex of his wings. Someone had bandaged them, the linen stained with fresh red.

A numbness smothered her when the memory of his bound wings replayed at the sight. With tears brewing in her eyes, she trailed her fingers down one side of his muscular wing-arm.

A quiver coursed through his wing membranes, and he snapped his wings against his back. “Aleeya?” His voice shook, and he turned, wrapping her in a hug before she could answer.

A wave of warmth and love passed through her. And though she could feel his arms around her waist and his wings about her, it was a whisper touch, as if she wasn't really there.

Somewhere far away, her stomach lurched.

“Veritas?” she whispered, her hands pressing against his chest—no, merging with him. She withdrew her hands and stood on tiptoe to nuzzle his neck, her lips brushing too lightly over his brown skin. “What's wrong? Why can't I touch you properly?”

He pulled away.

From behind Veritas, the vendor asked, “Are you going to buy those?”

Veritas grunted and released Aleeya to return to his task. The older wingman, wearing a farmer’s halter as long as an apron, leaned over, his gaze inspecting Aleeya from head to foot.

“Did you just drop out of the sky?” the farmer asked. “There's no flying allowed in the market. Not if you want to spend a night in lockup. Scares the strutios and...” His tone had begun harsh, but by the time he finished his voice faded away to a whisper. “Who are you?”

Aleeya winced, heat creeping up her neck at the way the farmer squinted at the apex of her wings—mostly likely at the piercing in her wings.

“Mundus, goddess of maps,” Veritas answered for her, his tone as sharp as the shopkeeper’s had been. “I'll take all you have. Do you have a sack for them?”

The vendor nodded, agape. Though his hands moved, placing the dried fruit in a cloth sack, his gaze remained on Aleeya.

“You mean, ah, you can’t mean the goddess who created the new island near Lanubro?” the vendor asked, his voice barely audible and squeaky. “Can She hear me?”

Aleeya opened her mouth to say she could, but winced as a sharp pain pulsed through her head. She cupped the back of her head behind her right ear and blinked.

Something’s not right…

Veritas glanced over wing-and-shoulder, concern drawing the corners of his lips down. “Yes, she can hear you.”

Flicking his own wings, the farmer's gaze raked over Veritas’ bandaged wings. “Are you a devotee?” he whispered, again his voice cracking on the last syllable. He pointed his chin up to the apex of Veritas’ wings. “Is that something her followers are doing to honor Her? Is it required?”

Growling an emphatic “No,” Veritas paid the farmer. With a swoosh of his black wings, he swept her into his arms. She yelped when her ethereal body semi-merged with his chest and arms, but she hung onto his shoulders. A thought floated into her mind. If she wanted to, she could hover along the buildings’ tops—through them, even, as if she were formless.

Striding through the market stalls, Veritas kept glancing at her, the concern in his eyes turning into something darker. Before she could ask what was wrong again, he turned into an empty alley and stopped.

“Where are you?” he asked.

I’m right here?

Aleeya readjusted herself in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist so she could face him. Still encased in his wings, she placed her hands on his shoulders. The warm afternoon light caught on his long eyelashes, and she had the sudden urge to brush her lips against them. She leaned in to kiss him.

Veritas dipped his chin and dodged away. “Aleeya? Can you concentrate on me? On what I’m saying? What's happening where you're at?”

She frowned. “I am concentrating on you. Why won't you let me kiss you?”

He sighed, his eyebrows drawing together and his head tilted to one side. A strange feeling that wasn’t her own filled Aleeya with a longing so strong her wings quivered.

For a scant moment, the image of a dark-red paisley-patterned rug wavered in her vision. Somewhere far away, her stomach turned and her skin grew cold.

Aleeya gripped her head and closed her eyes. “By the gods, what's happening?” Her voice was hoarse, and her heart beat faster.

Veritas’ wings tightened around her; the pulse of his heart thrummed through her own, calming her down. “The City of Ala praetorians captured you. They knocked you out. Probably hit your head?”

Afraid she'd see the wavering rug again, she kept her eyes closed, but patted the back of her head. Wherever her real body was, her physical hand did the same thing. A dull throb made her flinch.

She nodded once, slowly. Yes. It hurts.

“If you're directing your thoughts at me, love, I can't hear them,” Veritas said. “You'll have to speak.”

That’s not good. We were able to hear each other’s thoughts before…

Cracking one eye open, she was thankful all she saw was Veritas’ handsome face. A sigh of relief escaped her. He gave her an encouraging half smile and pressed his lips gently against hers.

She engulfed him, lightly rubbing her cheek against his, not minding she half merged with his body. She never wanted to be out of his arms ever again.

But she wasn't really in his arms now, was she?

While her corporeal body lay somewhere unconscious, she had instinctually map-traveled to Veritas, finding his familiar warmth in Sernia, north of Ka’ai. Deep inside, she felt her body flying further away.

“I don't know where… It’s dark. I'm… We’re flying, I think?”

“You'll have to go back,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through her, seemingly heating her far-away body.

“It’s cold!” She shivered, in both her ethereal form and her body.

“Where? I need to know where you are so I’m not searching all the Araki Mountains and half of Helacon.”

Of course, he was right. But returning meant leaving him.

She hadn’t had time to map the entire Helacon continent onto her left wing. She’d only managed to get the Ka’ain Province up to Lanubro and Ástmar’s Island, the new land she had mapped into existence. Once Veritas left the Ka’ain Province, she wouldn’t be able to map-travel to him.

“Alright,” she said, patting his chest and moving a little away. “But stay in Sernia until—”

She gasped. The morning’s recent events flooded through her consciousness: Jovian’s betrayal, the City of Ala wingmen’s attack on the Heila, the Xianit elemental, Jora, aiding with her ability to command air, Gallus escaping—she hoped!—and finally Cassia’s death.

Her gaze snapped to the sword hilt strapped to Veritas’ back.

“Cassia. By the gods! She’s… dead. It’s my fault—” She hiccupped a sob.

Back wherever her body lay, her arms and legs shuddered, and her wings strained against a ropey mass.

“It is not your fault.” Veritas stroked her hair on the uninjured side of her head. “I will avenge her death. I promise you.”

Aleeya buried her face in his neck, wishing as much substance into herself as she could. Her head started to throb anew and nausea raised bile in her throat. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t map-travel her corporeal body.

I’m such a useless godling.

An overwhelming sense of fatigue and dread permeated her limbs and soul. It emanated from her and into Veritas.

Veritas shook her ethereal form, and a wave of confidence flowed from him. “Don’t give up hope, Aleeya. We still have each other. And Gallus—”

Her whole body stiffened. “Gallus! Is he alright? Did he make it? Where is he?”

“He’s uninjured with my father at the caupona on the oher side of Sernia. The innkeeper there is letting him eat as many fish buns as he wants. Cixa and Syed are with him, too. As much as I want to, I can’t come for you alone. We’re planning your rescue mission.”

Aleeya only internalized the fact Gallus wasn’t injured.

“Gallus is not allowed to come after me.”

If she lost her brother, her heart would break and the world with it.

“No,” Veritas agreed. He adjusted the sack of dried fruit from one hand to the other, and continued down the alley with her wrapped around him like a child. “He’s going back on the Heila with the elementals.”

“The Zhorkun elementals,” she repeated. After Cassia’s death, Aleeya had completely forgotten about them. “Are they alright? The last time I saw them, they were on the street in Ka’ai near the Temple of Jove… Did it…”

Did I destroy a god’s temple? And not any god, but Jove, god among gods. Will He punish me?

“The elementals are fine, though shaken up—literally. They are wary of your powers after being trapped in your caldera for over a week. The landslides in Ka’ai retriggered some painful memories for them.” He gave her a half smile as he set out a different street. “The temple is at the First Fjord’s bottom. Reports indicate only a few casualties. They had enough time to evacuate almost everyone, unfortunately, including Her Reverence.”

Aleeya grimaced, half wishing the Oracle of Ka’ai had also ended up at the First Fjord’s bottom as well, but it was not her place to judge a mouth of the gods. Though her heart ached for Cassia, and any others who had perished because of Aleeya’s actions.

And Jora! Had Jora made it? The overwhelming feeling she couldn’t handle this—what her life had become—rose, forcing her body to take in shallow, painful breaths.

I can’t break down. Not now.

As Veritas navigated the streets of Sernia to the inn, he said, “Gallus will go with the elementals to the Heila and return to Ástmar’s Haven. You’ll be able to check in on him whenever you need to.”

Aleeya nodded, forcing herself to concentrate on his strong voice, anchoring herself. Yes, it was probably the safest place for Gallus. Kaja would protect him, inasmuch as the new Zhorkun leader could. Aleeya would have to pay them a visit as soon as possible. And apologize for Jora’s demise…

“Then they’ll sail to the City of Ala, as close as they can get by ship. Probably Lake Terraci. I doubt she’ll get there in time to be useful. Besides, I plan on reaching you long before that.”

Aleeya gently squeezed Veritas' neck. “They’re taking me to the City of Ala?”

He shrugged his wings, reaching over her head to rub them against her own. “It stands to reason. I’m sure the ambassador considers you a prize to offer to the emperor.”

Her stomach turned again. A weak dizziness made her train her gaze over Veritas’ shoulder at the steady buildings behind him.

The self-proclaimed Emperor of Western Helacon, Ke-Lev Cyprius, was the City of Ala’s current senator-turned-dictator. After decades, neither Ka’ai, Djamoi, nor Unlavik had yet to pledge allegiance to the emperor, but that didn’t stop the cities from sending praetorian troops to man his army invading the Eastern Wilds—her homeland.

How will someone like Ke-Cyprius force me to use my powers for his gain? Flatten the Wadacha Mountains so he can more easily cross into the Wilds? Lay waste to the Southern Wild’s forests?

She would not let them use her, nor would she put anyone she loved in peril again. If she had to, she’d kill herself before either event could happen.

Clenching her cold fingers until they dug painfully into her palms, she told Veritas, “I can’t let them take me to the City of Ala. Await my return.”

Then she forced her consciousness back into her frigid body.