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The boy’s eyes narrowed a little, focused not on the wings now, but inward — like he was sorting what his body was telling him. He looked up, reaching for the top wings, stroking them, his smile spreading. “These push,” he said, lowering to themiddle set. “And these steady.” He squatted down and angled his head at the bottom wings. “These absorb.” He angled his head up. “That’s why you can fall without fear.”

Kildare smiled, his fires heating in his blood with excitement.

The boy reached out again and touched the seam where one wing folded. “They’re made of memory. But…not just yours. All of it. Everyone you’ve fought for, everyone you’ve lost. The fire… it pulls from that. That’s how it burns.”

Kildare’s breath caught in his chest at the depth of his knowledge.

“Not really power,” he continued, voice lower now. Almost reverent. “It’s like… discipline. Like you made something dangerous behave.” His hand hovered over the final arc before pulling back. “They obey you,” he marveled.

Kildare stared at him, no longer seeing a boy, but a mirror of everything he’d once hoped would outlive him.

“You can feel all that, Little King,” Kildare said, not needing the answer.

The boy nodded slowly, eyes glowing faint in the dim light. “And it makes my chest feel... too small.” He angled a squinted gaze up at him again. “Do I have wings that will obey me like this?”

“I would have to look and see,” Kildare said. “May I?”

His nod was immediate and eager.

Kildare reached out and hovered his palm over Kross’s head. A sting, like frost bite bit his fingertips. He pulled back, his fire flaring in his chest. “You’ve got a shield up, Young Lock. It’s hiding what’s in you—like a wall you’ve built to keep things safe. Can I show you how to drop it, so I can see what you’ve got?”

Kross’s brows furrowed, and he nodded again, his voice small but curious. “Yes.”

Kildare knelt before him and took his arm. He held it up and gently touched his wrist. “Do you feel that shimmer—like a wall? It’s your instinct, protecting you. Push it down, just a little. Let it go, like you’re opening a door,” he encouraged, his voice steady as he watched Kross’s face tighten with focus.

The shimmer around Kross wavered, then fell with a shudder, bringing a roaring gust of wind, slicing through the grass with a flicker of flame that cracked like a whip, making Kross gasp with wide speckled eyes.

His shield snapped up tight again and the boy stumbled back a step, hands flying to his chest, breath coming fast. “What—what was that?” His voice cracked, high and startled, as he looked at Kildare, then at the sliced grass, the faint scorch marks on the ground.

Kildare chuckled, his fire coiling protectively as he stepped closer with a reassuring hand raised. “That’s you, Star-Eyes. You dropped your shield, and your powers spilled out. You put it back up without even knowing, didn’t you? That’s your instinct, keeping you safe. Let’s try again—I’ll help you control it, one gift at a time.”

Kross nodded, still breathing hard, his hands trembling as he lowered them. “It… it felt big. Too big.” His eyes darted to Kildare, searching for guidance, a flicker of trust in their depths.

“Itisbig,” Kildare said, folding his wings around them like a shield. “But you’re bigger. Let’s start with Krave’s gift—the winds. Drop the shield again, slow this time, and isolate the wind. Feel for something sharp, moving, like a breeze you can hold.”

Kross swallowed, his small frame steadying as he met Kildare’s gaze. After a moment, the shimmer wavered again and dropped more slowly. His brows furrowed, his hands clenching at his sides. A gust came, softer this time, rustling the oak leaves,but still sharp enough to nick the grass. “It’s… fast,” Kross said, his voice small. “Like it wants to run.”

Kildare’s fire hummed, guiding the boy with a gentle warmth. “That’s Krave’s wind—fast and sharp. But you can guide it. Push the other feelings behind it, let the wind surface. Imagine it like a cloak, wrapping around you, not lashing out. Can you make it softer, like a breeze?”

Kross’s face tightened with focus, his hands unclenching, and the gust softened further, swirling around him in a gentle spiral, lifting his hair. He grinned cautiously, a spark of awe in his eyes. “It’s… lighter now. I can feel it moving, but it’s not trying to cut and bite.”

“Good,” Kildare said, his wings flaring with pride. “That’s control. You can make it protect or cut, depending on what you need. Do you feel how it listens to you? That’s Krave’s strength in you—his winds can shield you, or strike like a blade. Try pushing it out, just a little, like you’re nudging the leaves.” He pointed to a pile near the firepit, his fire flaring briefly in encouragement.

Kross’s eyes widened, and he extended a hand, the breeze swirling from his fingers, nudging the leaves into a small spiral. His grin grew, voice bright with excitement. “It’s… it’s moving them! I can feel it—like it’s part of me!”

“That’s exactly right, Young Lock,” Kildare said, his fire singing with warmth. “That’s Krave’s gift, alive in you. Now let’s try my gift—the fire. Push the wind back, let something else surface. Feel for something warm, flickering, like a candle flame.”

Kross’s breath hitched as he focused a flicker of flame sparked at his fingertips, red specks glinting like embers. “Wow,” he gasped, eyes darting from the fire to Kildare before he yelped. “It’s hot!” He shook his hand, his voice a mix of surprise and excitement. “It… it burns, but it’s… alive.”

Kildare chuckled, his own fire humming with a soft warmth. “That’s my fire, Young Lock. It burns, but it can heal, too. Push the other feelings behind it, let it surface. Imagine a candle flame, steady and warm. Can you hold it without letting it grow?”

Kross held out his hand and watched it. The flame returned, smaller this time, a steady glow at his fingertips. His eyes widened when the red specks danced in the light. “It’s… warm,” he said, his voice soft. “It feels… strong, but… safe. Like… it wants to help because…” His breaths quickened. “Because it knows I’m scared,” he realized with a tiny smile of awe.

Kildare’s own awe stirred at seeing his fire in the boy. “That’s my fire in you. It’ll protect you. Heal you, if you learn to control it. Try letting it grow, just a little, like you’re warming your hands.”

Kross’s hands trembled slightly, but he focused, the flame growing into a small, steady fire, red specks glinting brighter. His breath hitched, his voice a whisper. “It’s… it’s warm, but… it’s heavy. Like… it could get bigger. Too big.”

Kildare’s wings flared in response. “That’s good, Little King. That heaviness is its power—it can grow, butyoudecide how much. Pull it back now. Make it small again. You’re in control.” He watched as Kross’s flame shrank back to a spark, the boy’s face lighting up with a grin.