Errant Wings (BL)

Azarel's breath came in slow, controlled exhales as he stood in the center of the training grounds, his wings partially spread, the air around him thick with energy.

His opponent lay on the ground, groaning, their weapon cast aside.

The match was over.

The golden sands beneath them still crackled with the remnants of his power—light amplified, sharpened, turned into a force that burned as much as it blinded.

A crowd of trainees watched from the edges, murmuring in quiet awe.

Azarel was relentless.

He had been training for hours. Pushing himself harder than ever.

The words of Leya still lingered in his mind.

You fear something.

She was wrong.

It wasn't fear.

It was control.

He needed to control this. Before someone else did.

Azarel wiped the sweat from his brow, stepping away from his fallen opponent.

Then—movement.

Two figures approaching from the entrance of the training grounds.

He recognized them instantly.

Leya's boys.

Again.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Does she ever stop?"

The taller of the two apprentices hesitated. "She insisted."

Azarel gave a slow nod, brushing past them.

He had a feeling this time would be different.

And he was right.

The garden was the same—serene, untouched, a place too peaceful for the conversations that always took place here.

But today, Azarel was not alone with Leya.

Today, there were three others.

Seraphine.

Brisco.

And Queen Rishe.

Azarel's steps slowed.

It was rare to see all three of them together.

Seraphine stood with her usual rigid grace, her piercing eyes watching him the moment he arrived. Her arms crossed, her wings folded sharply against her back.

Brisco, in contrast, stood with an easy confidence, his hands behind his back, his deep blue-edged wings relaxed. His presence was steady—a scholar, a tactician, an expert in all things related to celestial abilities.

And then, there was Queen Rishe.

Her presence was a quiet, overwhelming thing.

She stood tall, regal, wrapped in white and silver robes, her deep violet eyes unreadable. Her wings, though pristine, carried an eerie stillness, as if they had not moved in centuries.

Unlike her sister Lilith, she was not a creator.

She was a reaper.

And everyone in Asphodel knew why she rarely used her power.

Because when she did—entire armies fell.

Azarel inhaled deeply, straightening his posture as he approached.

Leya greeted him with a small nod. "You came. Good."

"You didn't leave me much choice." His silver gaze flickered to the others. "To what do I owe this… gathering?"

Brisco smiled slightly. "Don't sound so wary. We're not here to judge you. We're here to help you understand."

Azarel frowned. "Understand what?"

Leya took a step forward.

"Your power."

Azarel hesitated.

Leya continued, her voice calm, precise.

"The last time we spoke, you denied me the chance to see your future."

His jaw clenched slightly.

"And because of that, you assumed I was hiding something?"

"No." Leya's eyes met his evenly. "I assumed you were doubting something. And if not yourself, then your power."

Azarel exhaled slowly, glancing away.

Seraphine finally spoke.

"Azarel, your power is unique." She studied him with something between admiration and scrutiny. "Amplification is a force rarely seen. The fact that you possess it means you have the potential to tip the scale of war itself."

Brisco nodded. "Amplification is not just a matter of increasing strength. It is a force that enhances all things—light, energy, will. Perhaps even more than that."

Azarel frowned. "What are you saying?"

Queen Rishe, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

Her voice was soft, yet absolute.

"We are saying you do not yet understand the full nature of your gift. And that is dangerous."

Azarel's breath caught.

Dangerous?

His gift?

He had always assumed his ability was straightforward—to enhance, to expand, to amplify.

But now… they were suggesting something else.

Something more.

Leya's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"We need to see it."

The silence stretched.

Azarel's wings shifted slightly.

"…You want a demonstration."

Brisco smiled faintly. "Yes. And I promise, no one here will hold back."

Azarel exhaled through his nose.

He stepped back, rolling his shoulders.

Fine.

If they wanted to see—he would show them.

The air crackled as he summoned his light.

At first, it was small—a single orb of golden radiance hovering above his palm.

Then, as he focused—it grew.

Brighter.

Denser.

More powerful.

It pulsed, expanded, multiplied, until the air around them was filled with the sharp hum of concentrated energy.

Even Seraphine's expression flickered with mild surprise.

Leya watched intently.

Brisco, however, was the first to speak.

"You can amplify light." His deep blue-edged wings rustled slightly as he studied Azarel's control. "But light is not the limit, is it? You can amplify anything."

Azarel's concentration broke for a second.

"…Anything?"

Brisco smiled.

"Anything."

Leya's eyes flickered with realization.

Seraphine exhaled quietly.

Queen Rishe remained silent, her gaze unreadable.

Azarel felt his heart pound.

Anything?

He had always assumed his power worked within the constraints of light, of force, of radiance.

But if what Brisco said was true…

Then it was not just light he could amplify.

It was sound.It was motion.It was emotion.It was life.

Or, perhaps… even death.

Azarel's hands tightened into fists.

For the first time, he was beginning to realize—

He did not know his own limits.

And that was terrifying.