Chapter 5: Soaring

I come to, the cool night air rushing through my hair. Firm arms encircle me, binding me to the chill of the mysterious rescuer's chest. Together, we glide through the night sky, soaring away from the perilous party.

It takes a moment to recall where I am and what’s unfolding.

“Awake?” A familiar deep male voice questions.

I look up, and although his face is just out of my line of sight, I can see something that makes my breath catch in the back of my throat.

Vast black leathery wings stretch wide against the night, their rhythmic flapping resonating within my chest. We journey away from danger, carried by their powerful beats.

My heart races, struggling to grasp the surreal truth.

“How long was I…?” I falter, grappling for words.

“Only a few minutes,” he replies.

His voice strikes me as strangely familiar. Needing confirmation, I twist in his arms, craning my neck to see him.

His perfect face comes into view—achingly handsome. I take in the sight of his strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, flawless skin that gleams like pale marble in the moonlight, and those piercing icy blue eyes that remain fixed ahead.

Aleksandr Vasiliev. My mother's new brother-in-law. The man who, apparently, can fly. Is he a superhero? A mythical creature? Or maybe a super-villain? Nah, that's pure fiction. Such things only exist in tales, on screens, and in books.

His wings beat rhythmically, propelling us through the night. As I cling onto him for dear life, questions flood my mind. Is this real? No way. It can’t be. People don't suddenly sprout wings and take to the sky. Maybe I'm dreaming, or perhaps I got carried away and I drank too much champagne back at the party…

No, I’m obviously dreaming. I must be. The only explanation. Any moment now, I'll wake up in bed, with a terrible hangover from partying too hard.

Eyes squeezed shut, I bury my face in Aleksandr's chest, willing myself to wake.

"You're not dreaming, Arianna," Aleksandr says, cutting through my thoughts. "Although you might wish you were."

"Where are you taking me?" My voice trembles as I speak.

"I know you've got many questions, Arianna," he says, dodging my query. "But I'm not here to answer them. Patience will unveil everything in due time."

Ignoring his command, I twist to look at his face again.

"Are you… an angel?" My question is hesitant, eyes nervously scanning the expanse of his wings.

He scoffs, a hollow laugh escaping him.

"No questions, child," he instructs firmly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Child? And what am I, like, five years old?" I quip, my tone tinged with both embarrassment and irritation. "I'm eighteen, not—"

"You're a child," he asserts. "You have no idea how young you are. Now, listen to your elders and be silent."

Who does he think he is? Anger tenses my fists as I grip his jacket, avoiding thoughts of the ground far below.

"Elders?" I scoff. "How old are you, anyway? Thirty-five? Not exactly ancient."

He chuckles, a low, amused rumble.

We proceed in silence, only the rush of wind against his wings breaks it.

Finally, courage allows me to speak once more.

"All right, so, you’re not an angel," I muse softly. "But whatever fantastical impossible sci-fi creature you are… are your mom and Konstantin the same?”

He remains quiet, compelling me to press on.

"Fine, I'll take that as a yes," I mutter. "And since my mom married your brother, does she know about this… this magic stuff?"

"Yes," Aleksandr answers, clear and unhesitant this time.

His response surprises me. I'd anticipated denial, an insistence she knew nothing. It's hard to fathom that my mom willingly… knowingly… married someone, or something, inhuman.

Even worse - she hid it from me.

"If she knew, why didn't she tell me?" I hold back the tears welling behind my eyelids. "Was she planning to tell me at all?"

“You can ask her that yourself,” he replies. “Soon, now. We’re almost at the sky portal.”

"Sky portal?" I echo, uncertain whether I'm meant to understand the term.

"Look," he prompts gently. "Ahead."

The world transforms into a surreal dreamscape as we approach a glowing electric blue portal—a rift in the fabric of the night sky, beckoning with a darkness darker than the night itself. Crackles resonate in the whipping winds, sending shivers down my spine. Its eerie glow casts an otherworldly radiance over Aleksandr's sharp features.

My heart races as we draw nearer. For an instant, a burst of bright blue light engulfs us, like the heart of a candle's flame. It's overwhelming, like diving into a sea of energy. The cold air intensifies, a biting cold that numbs my entire body.

We pass through the portal, and a strange sensation of stretching and being pulled envelops me. Unfamiliar stars cast a silvery-blue light on my skin. Frosty breath mists before me, the cold piercing to my bones.

Summoning the courage to speak above the roaring winds, I ask, "Where are we?"

"Patience, child, we’re almost there," Aleksandr replies, his voice clear against the wind's howl.

"Almost where?" I press.

"The Palace of Endless Night," he answers, a note of solemnity colouring his voice. "Just below us. Look."

I take a deep breath and dare to look down, taking in the sight of a dark mountain covered in snow and dense pine trees, a vast inky carpet of forest far below. A grand and gothic castle stands perched on the mountain like an ancient stone sentinel. The fortress's dark façade is illuminated by flaming torches, their blue fire flickering and licking the frigid night air.

We descend, landing on a broad stone balcony above the battlements. I stumble, steadied by Aleksandr's strong grip. Pulling away, distrust creeps over me.

My gaze sweeps the foreign landscape. Snowy peaks rise in the distance, a village with golden lights gleams far below. The castle stands as an architectural marvel, grand wooden doors flanked by enormous fire pits filled with strange blue flames, intricate stone carvings of mythical creatures adorning its walls.

White powder drifts from the sky. Instinctively, I extend my hand, marvelling as snowflakes melt against my skin—an enchanting sensation that I haven’t experienced since my one and only trip to the snow with mom when I was only eight years old.

"The others will be joining us shortly," Aleksandr informs me evenly.

I glance upward, the sound of enormous wings beating the air growing louder. Two dark shapes block out the stars, casting a formidable shadow. As they grow nearer, they take form—Anya, Aleksandr and Konstantin's mother, and, trailing behind, my mother embraced by her new husband.

Relief washes over me, and I race toward them, screaming “MOM!” at the top of my lungs.