Hidden Wings

Chapter 3: The Staged Attack

The walk home felt like a trap, the moment I stepped out of the suffocating school building. I had hoped the bright, chilly air would clear my head, but the rare sunshine had already curdled into dark, brooding clouds rolling in from the west. Nausea surged in my throat, but I pushed on, my feet seeking the sanctuary of Isaac’s office. A sharp hum thrummed in my palms, paired with a glacial chill down my spine. I quickened my pace, transitioning from a brisk walk to an uneven, desperate run, just as the street died. The ambient hum of traffic and the rustle of leaves vanished, replaced by a heavy, suffocating hush that pressed against my eardrums like the weight of the deep ocean.

I was a block away from the safety of the traffic when they stepped out from the shadows of an alleyway, moving with a fluid, predatory wrongness. They weren’t human. Their skin was the color of bruised slate, stretched tight over corded, unnatural muscle, and their fingers extended into crystalline, translucent claws that clicked against the asphalt with the sound of sharpening butcher knives.

This isn’t happening. This is a hallucination, I thought, my mind stalling as I scrambled backward, my boots scuffing the pavement. The logic of the world—the safe, predictable logic of school and home—had fractured, leaving me exposed in the middle of a city street.

One lunged, its jaw unhinging to reveal rows of serrated, glass-like teeth. It didn’t growl; it hissed, a sound like steam escaping a pressurized pipe.

“Ivy, get behind me!” Ashton’s voice was a whip-c***k of command.

He shoved me behind a parked SUV just as the creature’s claws slammed into the metal. The sound of steel tearing like wet parchment made me flinch, and shards of window glass rained down, biting into my skin. I pressed my back against the tires, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs that I felt lightheaded. I was paralyzed, watching through a gap in the chassis as the world devolved into a nightmare.

Ashton moved with a blur of violence that defied physics. He was a silver streak, meeting the first creature head-on. He caught the beast’s wrist as it swiped for his throat—the sickening c***k of bone cutting through the heavy air like a thunderclap. He didn’t flinch. With a brutal twist, he used the creature’s own momentum to slam it face-first into the brick wall, the masonry spiderwebbing under the impact.

The second beast darted in from the left, its claws tearing jagged furrows into the SUV’s fender. Ashton turned, his eyes glowing with an intense, molten light. He raised his hands, and the air around us shimmered, turning scorching hot. Blinding gold-and-violet flames erupted from his palms, roaring like a furnace.

The fire wasn’t just heat; it was hungry. It lashed out like a living thing, coiling around the monster’s torso. The creature shrieked—a sound of grating metal—as the flames intensified, turning from violet to a searing white. I scrambled backward, my lungs burning as I tried to pull in air that smelled of singed hair, ozone, and ancient dust. The heat was so intense it made the asphalt beneath my hands feel soft.

Ashton was intentional with every strike, his body a calculated shield between me and the encroaching shadow. With a final, explosive burst of power, he slammed his palms together, creating a localized shockwave that shattered the last creature into a pile of fine, gray ash.

The silence that followed was deafening. Ashton stood in the center of the street, the golden flames dancing lazily across his knuckles before sinking back into his skin, leaving his hands pristine. His chest rose and fell in a steady, controlled rhythm. He didn’t look tired. He looked satisfied.

“Ivy? Are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?” Ashton looked me over, his eyes searching. He moved closer, taking my shoulder and gently turning me. “Good. You don’t look like you got hit.”

I opened my mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but the scent of the dead monsters still hung in the air, thick and metallic. I stumbled backward, my stomach churning. Ashton matched my steps, closing the space between us. He caught me, and the scent of amber, oak, and spiced leather engulfed my senses. My arms went around him, and a flash of two people—older, taller, draped in strange, regal clothes—hit the back of my eyelids, clear as day. I pushed back, taking sharp steps away. He stayed put this time and sighed.

“You aren’t human, Ivy.” He said it like a simple fact. He moved slowly, closing the distance in a single, silent stride, pinning me against the brick wall. His face was inches from mine. The heat radiating off him was nearly suffocating, melting away the lingering chill of my terror. “Those monsters were Fae. And so am I. I’m here to protect you, Ivy. Let me be your ally.”

I looked into his eyes—those deep, fathomless blue depths—and felt the terrifying truth connect with the static hum waking up under my skin. I nodded, a wave of relief washing over me, thick and disorienting. He was the only thing that made sense right now; he was someone I would have to trust in a world that had suddenly turned into a theater of monsters.

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Help me.”

Ashton’s smile was blindingly beautiful, but as he turned to guide me toward the final block, a chilling, distant look settled into his eyes. My nerves were on edge. I caught his reflection in a storefront window. He clearly didn’t notice that I saw his expression drop, turning cold and calculating—the mask of the “gentleman protector” sliding away to reveal something far more predatory.

A jolt of static electricity shot through my fingertips, the hum under my skin turning jagged and sharp—a silent, visceral warning that screamed danger louder than my brain ever could. The knot in my stomach tightened. I cleared my throat, glancing around as the heat in my hands rose. A car horn blared, cutting through my thoughts. The mundane city streets felt like a punch to the gut, a reality I was desperately trying to hold onto.

"It’s okay, Ivy. I will protect you. Are we almost there?"

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek as I watched him shift back into the expression that said I mattered. My mind was racing; I had to calm down, but the heat in my hands wouldn’t dissipate.

"Good. Take a few breaths. We will be safe soon. I don’t want to put you against your family, but Ivy, you should ask them about who you really are."

We reached the office, and I threw open the door, desperate for the safety of my brother’s presence. I bypassed the front desk and flew down the private corridor, Ashton right on my heels, his presence looming large at my back. I threw the office door open, ready to scream for help—but the words died in my throat.

Isaac wasn’t alone. Standing in the center of the room was our grandmother, though she looked nothing like the woman I knew. She was glowing, her light flickering and fracturing like a dying star, bleeding into the floorboards. The air in the office grew impossibly thin, freezing the breath in my lungs.

“She is the rightful heir, Isaac!” Her voice didn't just fill the room; it resonated within my own bones, an otherworldly command that made the very furniture groan.

Isaac slammed his hands onto his desk, his face pale and furious. “She knows nothing of our world, Grandmother! She thinks she’s human! Sending her back to Ivearona right now isn’t a return—it’s a death sentence!”

The room spun. My knees buckled, and the darkness rushed in to claim me, leaving me in the silence of the unknown. As I fell, the last thing I felt was the unnatural, biting cold emanating from the room—a warning that the quiet life I had fought so hard to keep was already gone, replaced by a legacy of blood and shadow.