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“Joe! Joe, you’re doing it!”
Joe could barely hear his demon friend’s cheering through the rushing wind and distance as an updraft buffeted his wings enough to finally lift his feet off the ground. Ever since the young angel’s flight feathers finished coming in a month or so ago, Joe’s been practicing and trying his best to learn how to use these refurbished wings of his, to finally be able to fly.
And now, he can feel it; the wind hitting and eventually sweeping under his primaries, letting his shining white wings finally lift him weightlessly higher above his home than he’d ever been before. He sees the ground slowly drop from under him and the trees come to meet him, and he carefully shifts his wings, letting him cut though the air in a glide.
Then, the wind begins to fade and the air goes more still, and he feels half the lift under his wings vanish. Panicking, he starts flapping frantically, and sees that he just about manages to maintain altitude, flying in spastic circles in the air. Adrenaline and ecstasy flood his mind, and he flies there for several moments, laughing in the thrill and achievement, before finally “landing” with a rough but not too painful tumble.
As he comes to his feet and brushes himself off, he can hear Grian going nuts from the sidelines, rapidly getting louder as he came over to help Joe up.
“Joe! Oh my Arches, you did it! You flew! That was amazing! Even when the wind went away--dude, you can fly! That’s so awesome!”
“Oh, I--wouldn’t say that yet, it was just a first glimpse,” he says, trying his best to keep his composure despite his mind racing with excitement just the same as Grian. “All angels learn how to fly, and I promise that was nothing compared to--”
He’s interrupted with a playful bop on the head. “Would you shut up, Joe!” said Grian. “That was awesome and you know it! You don’t have to act all formal around me, you know we’re friends.”
Joe smiles weakly. “Sorry, I just--I should get into the habit, you know… it’s important, especially if I want to live up in the End. You know how proper all the angels that live there are supposed to be, it’s our homeland. My parents have been trying to get me ready.”
Grian opens his mouth to reply, but goes quiet, looking at something Joe had heard behind him.
“Speaking of…” Joe mutters, turning to face his parents--but Grian holds none of the same disappointment, immediately running over to them with a beaming fanged smile.
“Did you guys see that? Did you see what Joe just did?! He flew! He like, all the way flew! No wind or anything!”
The two angels pull away from the young demon with discomfort and suppressed disgust, though in his excitement Grian doesn’t get the hint. Joe grabs his arm, pulling him away from the two, and Grian winds down with a growing look of shame.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Hills,” Grian mutters, averting his gaze. The mentioned angel just gives a tiny hum in response, brushing off her arm where the demon’s hand had made light contact, as though the touch itself were dirty. Wordlessly, she turns to Joe, alongside her husband who is the first to talk.
“Congratulations on flying, son! I didn’t see it as well as your… friend, here, but you’re looking excellent! With enough practice you’ll be flying everywhere like your mother and I used to.”
Mrs Hills gives a pleased nod of agreement, before her expression shifts. “Though, I think it’s time we brought something up with you, Joe. Could we talk?” She makes a slight gesture with her head back towards the house.
The happy feeling in Joe’s heart from all the excitement and praise begins to dim with worry. He nods hesitantly, and his parents lead him back inside. The two sit down opposite him, and he thinks he catches Grian slip behind a corner. He may be listening in.
“Have you ever heard the parable of stolen wings?”
“No, sir.”
“We got you the book from the library, I know you like seeing these things on the page.” His father hands him a bulky book. “But, in so few words… recall your history class, back during the War. As demons began to fall to angelic forces, some grew… spiteful. They snuck into and beyond the End, and trekked across the Void to the very heart of its magic--the very same magic that gives us our wings, that allowed you to tread through the air as you did just earlier.”
Joe falls silent, captivated by his father’s story, and simultaneously skeptical and worried as to where it would lead.
“They stole from it, Joe. They tapped into the very lifeblood of our angelhood and took it for themselves. They stole angels’ wings, stained them a charcoal black with corruption. They stole magic powerful enough for them to disguise themselves as one of us, like they were no different and did nothing wrong, all while the original bearers of their wings were left lost and unrecompensed, never to fly again.”
Joe stares at the ground, brows knitted, his hand reaching over his opposite shoulder to feel the base of his wings. “Why are you telling me this?”
“We’re worried for you, Joe,” his mother answers this time. “We know you and Grian are really close, but… you have to remember he’s a demon, and what they do. He acts more innocent than he is, demons do that,” Joe turns to hide his face away further, loathing the way her soft tone and front of concern cushion the righteous venom dripping from her mouth. “Whether it’s your wings, or something different, he’ll tear you down for his own gain. It’s their nature.”
Something tips in Joe at that, and he finally looks her in the eye and speaks.
“What do you know of demon nature?”
Despite the swirling emotions going through his head, Joe’s tone is blissfully neutral, in such a way that leaves not only his parents but himself wondering whether that was a challenge or a genuine question. His parents do not answer either way.
“Come on, son,” said his father. “This is important for you. When you move to the End--”
“It’s important to you,” Joe corrects, and in that moment, the long-present desire at the back of his mind finally making itself known. “What makes you think I want to go to the End? I’m sick enough of the division here. You’ll find reason to hate, and fear, over-- some old fairy tale!”
“It’s not a ‘fairy ta--’”
“Whatever! Grian’s a good person and my best friend. He would never hurt me. And I’m not leaving him behind.”
He finally walks out, pausing in the doorway to give the other two a moment to interject, only to be met with long seconds of silence. He sighs, and turns to see Grian--hiding behind the wall to listen in, just as Joe had suspected. The demon’s face is unreadable under the immense weight of everything he just overheard. Joe catches a hint of relief in his wide eyes upon seeing the angel standing before him, beckoning for the demon to come with him.
Joe sighs. “I’ll be practicing down the river until dinner if you need me.”
And with that, he walks out of sight, the nervous demon silently trailing behind him.
---
Joe lays down in the grass of the field, the river distantly bubbling and gurgling a short ways away. With a surprising amount of effectiveness it quells the anger, thrill, and imminent anxiety remaining from the conversation with his parents, leaving behind only a feeling of worry crossed with wonder, that he can already tell wouldn’t drain away for a long time. Joe sighs deeply, then looks up into the sky, watching the clouds lazily drift across his vision. He hears the approaching grassy footsteps of the demon kit who’d followed him here, and makes no outward acknowledgement of his presence other than folding a white wing over himself so that Grian could lie down next to him.
The two lie quietly for a few minutes, still processing the talk. With anyone else, the silence would be awkward, but Joe appreciates the company. He hopes Grian does too.
“I’m sorry,” Grian eventually says, interrupting the quiet sounds of nature.
“For what?”
“I’m just… making everything so much more complicated for you guys.”
“It’s not your fault, Grian,” Joe says, brows knitted. “You know that, right?”
The demon’s silence deafens him.
“Grian, you can’t help-- there’s nothing wrong with-- The only difference between us and humans are wings and horns. It’s not your fault everyone makes a big deal of them. We’ll stick together anyways, right?”
A long few seconds pass before Grian responds. “What if we can’t?”
“Grian…”
“I’m serious, Joe. Your parents want you up in the End, and I could be sent back to the Nether on a guard’s whim. You’d probably burn to a crisp down there and Arches know I’d never be allowed to set foot in the End. What do you expect we could do?”
Joe thinks for a long minute. He wouldn’t be surprised if Grian thought he’d given up on answering by the time he replied.
“They basically gave us the answer, didn’t they?”
“What?”
“My parents, back there. A disguised demon could make it to the Overworld, and a flightless angel would be all but forced to live there too,” Joe said, rising slightly.
Grian sat up too to meet him with astonished eyes. “You’re not serious.”
“I said I wouldn’t leave you behind.”
“Joe, I can’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s a last resort. But a sacrifice I’d be willing to make.”
Grian’s turned away, silently wiping his eyes. Joe thinks for a moment.
“Besides, we’ve both got our whole lives in front of us. It’d be unfair for me to hog the wings the whole time.”
“Right,” Grian says, voice wavering a little but audibly smiling. “I mean, it’d just be rude.”
“Exactly. And hey, maybe you could lend me the horns too, huh? We can take turns.”
The demon laughs a little more, and Joe smiles too.
“Your turn first though, okay?” Grian says, quelling his laugh. “Let’s see if you can get in the air again.”
Joe stands up, wiping his own eyes clear. He slowly unfurls his wings, white feathers practically glowing in the sunlight. He feels them catch the wind, and he gives Grian an adventurous grin.
“Let’s.”