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I recoil, flapping my wings frantically to escape from the crimson that flows down the walls. Steady, shimmering streams that break off into smaller rivulets, chased by voices on the wind. They disappear, trickling through cracks in the stone.

Branwen snaps her wings, extending them fully as she shifts, soaring up, up, up to return to the spires. Her wings cut through the wind as she circles the castle, making loop after loop until the sun sets and light disappears, and her feathers shimmer like diamonds as they drink in the light of the moon.

Still, she flies.

Circling. Watching.

The pale bird—me, it’s me—follows behind her, white wings burning against the dark of night. Her feathers are too bright, too fragile. Her flight is clumsy, unpolished. But the black bird never leaves her behind, circling back over and over, leading her forward without falter.

She soars through the air, steadying my flight, pulling me higher with each turn of her wings.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Branwen.

Me.

She guides our flight, and I eagerly follow. Slowly gaining confidence with each turn. Until eventually, my wings become steady. Sure.

When the voice returns, it is neither old nor young. Neither male nor female. Neither wise nor ignorant.

It simply is.

A gift… and an explanation.

This is why she was sent, Daughter. You’re not meant to do this alone.

The flame inside my chest flares, burning brighter than ever before. It unfurls, stretches, and turns toward the voice, crackling in acknowledgment. In welcome.

This time, it doesn’t fold into nothing and disappear. This time, it burns steadily. Joyfully. And I know in my soul, I’ll never again need to search, fearing it’s been extinguished.

Branwen laughs. The sound is bright, alive, and unrestrained. Like she felt the same shift as I did. My laughter joins hers, exploding in a trill of joy as I soar alongside her, taking in the world beyond, its beauty extending endlessly into the horizon.

Something has changed not only in me, but in the world itself. I smile, feeling closer than ever before to something I suddenly know I’ve been missing, even if I have no idea what it could be.

I blink.

And find myself back in the warehouse, kneeling on the floor, facing Branwen. My heart pounds in my ears. Tears fall, hot and fast down my cheeks.

Across from me, Branwen raises her head… and smiles.

It’s tentative. Shaky. And real.

“Do you see?” she whispers, eyes bright with excitement and hope.

I feel the Alphas. Can feel them watching us, even as I return her smile with one of my own. I know there will be questions later, but I don’t care. Not right now.

Because right now, there’s no room for Alphas or questions or anything else. In this moment—in this breath—it’s only us. No one else exists.

Only Branwen and me.

Two Omegas.

Two birds.