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Nyx was in the training room at the River House. It was the only room in the house that at his age he was allowed to practice his magic unsupervised. His parents under Aunt Amren’s guidance had spelled it to clean up any messes he might make; there were extensive fire wards to extinguish any flames that got out of his control, along with a myriad of others. It also held everything he needed to train his combat skills, whether it was Illyrian or Valkyrie training.
Currently he was working with his Night magic. He had all of his mother’s powers, but as expected, the magic from his home court was the strongest and took the most practice. So much so that he struggled to understand how his father used his powers with such certainty and control. He could call on any type of darkness he wished and make it do his bidding even when he was stressed.
Nyx on the other hand was still working on not blacking out the whole room and making the city shake when he summoned his own.
At the moment he was focusing on slowly dimming the light in the room and then letting it return. He’d been doing it over and over again, an exercise his father had given him to help him learn to control how much of his magic he used at any given time.
Sweat beaded on the boy’s forehead from the intense focus, and the sharp hold of the leash he had on his magic. He was also following Aunt Amren’s instructions of only using his thoughts to control it. Nyx had lost count of how many times she’d repeated her lesson. “In emergencies there is no time for dramatics. If you never use your hands to control your magic, you never have to unlearn using it as a crutch.”
Nyx knew she was right, but it was hard. In fact, each time his father waved his hand or snapped his fingers when using his magic, the boy didn’t miss the glare his aunt would give him. At one point she had even called the High Lord out on it when they thought Nyx wasn’t listening. “You need to drop the dramatics Rhysand. You’re setting a bad example for your son. He needs to see that you don’t need your hands to control your magic if I’m ever going to convince him he doesn’t need his.”
His father had huffed at the words, but agreed nonetheless. From then on, Nyx had noticed his father making a point to keep his hands in his pockets more often when he used his magic. It was fascinating how easily he could control it without so much as a blink. It had given Nyx the resolve he needed to try, a new goal for him to achieve.
Everyone in their family believed he could easily be as strong as his parents if not more so with the right training. It was a slightly intimidating thought for the eleven-year-old boy, but exciting too. The idea that he could one day control as much magic with as much control and confidence as his parents reinforced his desire to keep training.
These days Nyx could often be found in the training room after completing his studies with the tutors. Often needing to work off some energy after their droning lectures on economics and court relations. His father had told him one day after a particularly boring session with his tutors that part of his problem might be magic build up. He’d advised Nyx to try training his magic just before and after his lessons to try and combat it.
Sure enough, that had been the problem. As his powers had grown, he needed to use his magic more frequently to keep it from building up. The lessons were still boring, but he didn’t feel the need to get up and do jumping jacks in the middle of them anymore.
Returning to the present, Nyx realized that while he’d been lost in thought, the room had darkened far more quickly than he intended as his focus slipped. He tried to gain control back, but his focus slipped further causing his magic to surge and the room to go pitch black. His magic wrapped around him for a few moments before he was able to clear his mind and get it back under control.
The light returned to the room as his darkness dissipated. Nyx felt so off kilter as it did, that he wondered if the surge had used more of his power than normal. There was a certain lightness to his body, but not the kind that usually accompanied using so much magic so quickly. There was no dizziness or brain fog, just this weird almost weightless feeling.
Nyx moved to shake it off, but as he moved, he quickly stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees. Panic washed over him as he sat up and realized why he felt so light. Turning his head slowly, as if the speed of the realization would change the outcome, he saw or rather didn’t see what had happened. Where normally his vision would be obscured by sensitive membranous flesh stretched over strong bones that helped him to fly, was nothing.
Nyx blinked as he tried to process the loss of his wings. To any Illyrian, losing their wings was their biggest fear. The mere idea of never being able to taste the sky again sending shivers through even the fiercest warriors.
Now that was exactly what he faced. His wings were gone. Just gone.
No pain, no indication that they had ever been there at all. If he didn’t know any better, Nyx would have thought he dreamt them up, but there was no denying the change in his center of gravity or how foreign everything felt without the appendages.
Swallowing hard to keep the bile from rising in his throat, Nyx got clumsily to his feet as his body attempted to compensate for the lack of weight at his back. Shaking slightly, and being very careful about how he walked, he made his way out of the training room and down the hall.
Finally he reached a door that had been painted with a detailed depiction of Ramiel and the night sky above it, he knocked. A moment later the door to the painting studio swung open to reveal his mother wearing a smock that seemed to do little to keep the paint off her. She still had blue smudges on her face and even in her hair, but Nyx brushed it aside, far more concerned with his current predicament.
“M-Mom…I-I don’t know what happened…”
“Nyxie, what are you talking ab–” His mother’s eyes grew wide as she glanced over him, her gaze snagging just over his shoulder. “Wh-Where are your wings?”
Nyx forced himself not to panic, “I-I don’t know…”
His mother must have realized where he was mentally, because she quickly took off her smock and drew him into a hug. “It’s going to be okay Nyx, we’ll figure this out.” She didn’t speak again until his breathing had calmed, he hadn’t even realized it had become so fast. “What were you doing when this happened?”
Nyx took a deep breath, “I-I was in the training room. I was working on the exercise dad gave me to get better control over my Night magic. I lost my focus though and my power surged. The whole room went black, and when I got it under control and the darkness went away, m-my wings were gone.”
“Okay…” His mother’s eyes grew thoughtful, “Did you see any golden light in the darkness when your wings disappeared?”
Nyx shook his head, “No, it wasn’t my shapeshifting. I would have been able to feel that.”
His mother nodded, “Okay, I think I know what’s going on, but I can’t talk you through it.” Nyx started to shake again, but she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her voice a soothing balm to his worries. “Your father finishes his meeting in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you go get a snack while you wait? I think he’ll be better equipped to help you with this.”
Nyx merely nodded, trying to take comfort in the thought that his father might be able to help him get his wings back. Even still, the wariness remained as he made his way towards the kitchen.
—
Rhysand was glad to be heading home. He deeply loved his subjects, but sometimes the meetings he had to attend with them grated on his nerves. Currently, the Palace of Bone and Salt and the Palace of Thread and Jewels were looking to expand. Both had their eyes on the same plots of land that had gone up for sale, which meant it was up to the High Lord to come up with a compromise.
It had been a seemingly endless run around with the delegates sent to represent both Palaces. Both gave their reasoning for needing the land, bickered with each other over who had the better reasons, and found fault in every compromise proposed to them. It had taken quite a bit of restraint for Rhys to keep his frustrations from showing.
Eventually they had agreed on a compromise that allowed them each to take part of the land with the promise that more would be developed on the other side of their Palace. It would expand the city slightly and allow them the space they needed for their merchants. It wouldn’t solve their problems as quickly as they wanted, but it would help prevent further property squabbles in the future.
Honestly, sometimes trying to get courtiers and delegates to see the sense in a compromise was harder than it was with his eleven-year-old son and his two younger cousins. How did these people manage to act more like younglings than actual younglings?
Rhys’s thoughts remained on the meeting as he made his way towards his study to draft up the necessary paperwork for the upcoming city expansion. He was torn from them just as he was about to round the corner though.
“Dad!” The tone to Nyx’s voice immediately set him on edge. That was not just fear in his voice, but desperation.
Rhysand whipped around to see what had his son so distressed, and it didn’t take him long to figure it out. He blinked to make sure his eyes weren’t playing a trick on him, but the image before him remained the same. Nyx lacked the grace and bounce to his step that he normally walked with, and it wasn’t hard to see why.
Almost everything about his son seemed completely normal, except for his wings, or rather the lack of his wings.
“Dad! What do I do?!”
Rhys was quick to shake off his surprise as he walked over to his son, “What happened?”
Nyx looked borderline frantic, “I-I was training, working on the control exercise you gave me. I lost focus and blacked out the room. When the darkness went away my wings were gone! I didn’t know what to do so I asked mom and she said to talk to you and–”
The gentle hand he placed on Nyx’s shoulder brought his rapid explanation to a halt, “Breathe Nyx. We’ll figure this out, but not if you work yourself into a panic.”
Nyx nodded, closing his eyes as he took a few deep breaths. When he opened them again, he seemed calmer, “I don’t know what I did that made my wings disappear, and I don’t know how to get them back.”
Rhys thought over what his son had told him, “You said you were working with your Night magic when this happened?” Nyx gave a small nod, “Okay, in that case, let’s head back to the training room.”
The boy didn’t seem to understand, but also appeared somewhat less anxious at the realization that his father wasn’t panicking. In truth, Rhys would be more frightened if he didn’t think he knew what was going on, but he had some ideas.
When they got to the training room that had been spelled specifically for lessons like this, Nyx turned to look at him expectantly. Rhys looked over his son one more time before speaking, “Okay, so I think I know what happened and how to reverse it. If you were working on the control exercise I gave you and that led to a magic surge, it’s likely that more than just your darkness ended up being used.”
Nyx tilted his head to the side slightly, a motion so like his mother. “B-But it wasn’t my shapeshifting. I know what that feels like, I didn’t feel that.”
Rhys shook his head, “I don’t think it is either, or your mother would have talked you through this. However, there is more to your Night powers than just darkness. I think you may have just stumbled upon an ability your mother and I have been wondering if you had for a while now.”
He didn’t miss both the confusion and excitement in Nyx’s gaze. He was always thrilled when he found out he had another of his parents’ abilities. He’d been over the moon each time he’d first shown he had another Court’s magic, a gift from his mother. Equally he still beamed with accomplishment every time he figured out a new skill with Rhys himself when it came to mastering his surplus of Night magic.
Rhysand knew that he would only hold the title of ‘Most powerful High Lord in history’ until his son took the throne. It didn’t bother him in the slightest. Truthfully he was proud of his son’s abilities and wanted to help him hone them until even Rhys himself had nothing left to teach him.
“Stand here.” Nyx shuffled to the center of the room where Rhys had indicated. Doing a quick circle around his son, he let his own magic curl around him to feel for the lingering effects of his power surge. Soon he found what he was looking for. “Just as I suspected.”
Nyx looked inquisitive as Rhys came back into his son’s view, “What is it?”
“Well, despite the fact that you were born with your wings, your magic has hidden them.” Rhys did his best not to let his pride show as he confirmed that Nyx had inherited another of his specific traits. “I need you to close your eyes.” The boy did as he was told, “Now feel the magic coursing through you, specifically your Night magic.”
There was silence for a long moment before tendrils of darkness began to curl around Nyx’s fingers. Midnight wisps drifted through his equally dark hair. Starlight began to spring to life within the darkness he’d summoned and the room grew slightly dimmer.
When Rhys was certain that his son had fully attuned himself to his Night powers, he spoke again, more softly this time so as not to break his concentration. “Feel how it wraps around you and bends to your will…” The darkness drew closer to Nyx’s lanky, growing body, “Now focus on the sensations at your back. Imagine your wings are there. Feel the weight of them where they connect to your back. Imagine feeling the darkness wrapping around them too. Focus on that and that alone.”
Just to ensure he wasn’t distracted, Rhys put an extra shield around his son’s mind to make sure no stray thoughts could slip in and break his focus. The room grew darker until Rhys had to strain to see his son standing just five feet in front of him. This time however, the darkness radiated from Nyx with a calm certainty. He really had been practicing on his control.
“As you focus on that feeling, make it real. Your wings are there, not just in your imagination, but actually there physically.”
Stepping a little closer so he could actually see the young boy, Rhys noted his face was scrunched up as he tried to follow the instructions. A few moments later the tendrils of darkness drifting around him began to coalesce at his back, shaping itself into two familiar forms. Another few seconds and the darkness began to solidify. Strong bones and muscles connected and concealed by dark membranes replaced the magic bit by bit. The talons at the apex were the last things to come into view as his wings fully materialized into existence.
Nyx didn’t seem to realize he’d succeeded, so Rhys spoke quietly, “And there you go.”
He watched as Nyx slowly relinquished the magic. The room grew brighter and the tendrils of night retreated. The starlight winked out until even the last wisps of darkness had dissipated like smoke.
Only when it had completely disappeared did Nyx dare to crack his eyes open, looking at his father in question. Rhys just smiled, “Look for yourself.”
Tentatively, Nyx turned his head. As soon as his gaze locked on his wings, he shuffled them as if to test whether or not they were under his control. As soon as he realized they were, he wrapped them around his body as if he were giving himself a hug.
“Oh thank the Mother!” Nyx was speaking more to his wings than the other person still present in the room, “I thought I’d lost you!” Rhys chuckled, causing his son to remember he was there, and curiosity came over his expression, making him look so much like his mother. “So…what did I do?”
Rhys couldn’t help but let his pride show now, “Apparently you have another one of my abilities. Despite being born with your wings, you can vanish and summon them at will.”
Nyx blinked at him, “I-I can?”
“Well, what else would you call what you just did?”
Nyx nodded, but soon his surprise returned, “Wait…you said ‘despite being born with wings.’ ” He stared up at his father in amazement, “Were you not born with your wings?”
Rhys shook his head, “I wasn’t. I got more of your grandfather’s genetics, which is why my eyes are the color they are and my magic is as strong as it is. My sister, your aunt, got more of our mother’s genetics and had the more typical Illyrian build, including wings.” He smiled at the memory, “I didn’t get much from the Illyrians apart from my stubbornness, skin color, and two brothers that annoy me constantly.”
Nyx snorted, “That’s one way to describe Uncle Cass and Uncle Az.”
Rhys dipped his head in agreement, “Anyways, I was always envious of my mother and the other Illyrians. I wanted to fly like them, but the Cauldron hadn’t seen it fit to grant me wings.” He chuckled, “Ironically enough, it was your Aunt Amren who suggested I might be able to magically summon a pair.”
“Aunt Amren…but she’s not Illyrian.”
“No, certainly not, and if the way she treats myself and your uncles is anything to go by, she’s perfectly fine with that.” Rhys shook his head, “She told me that not everyone with Night powers could do it, my father certainly couldn’t. Still, because I had a shared heritage with the Illyrians, there was a chance I could call on that part of my biology. I trained extensively with her on it, desperate to summon my own wings. I was five and about to give up on the dream entirely when I finally managed to summon them for the first time.” He smiled as he recalled that day, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited, save for the day we found out your mother was going to have you.”
Nyx appeared baffled, his voice reflecting his expression, “Y-You were five before you summoned your wings for the first time?” When Rhys nodded, his son pulled his own wings a little tighter around himself, “I-I can’t imagine…I barely lasted half an hour without them.” He shook his head, “I don’t understand how anyone lives without wings.”
“You can’t miss what you’ve never had, Starlight.” Rhys allowed his own wings to appear, their weight a familiar and comfortable presence, “But I can understand missing them…I don’t particularly enjoy having mine vanished for very long either. For an Illyrian, missing our wings is like a High Fae missing their arms or legs. They’re a part of us, and not just physically. That innate need to fly, to touch the clouds is born into every Illyrian. It’s the reason I was so desperate to have wings of my own. Every instinct in my body was telling me to fly.”
Nyx nodded, running his hand along the outside of his wing in an almost reverent fashion. “I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t get them back…”
Rhys chuckled, “You could have gotten them back either way, this was just easier.” Nyx tilted his head, “You have your mother’s shapeshifting talents. She doesn’t have a drop of Illyrian in her, and yet she flies with you almost as often as I do.”
Realization washed over Nyx, “D-Did mom know what had happened to me?”
“She likely suspected it, which is why she told you to talk to me before walking you through how to shapeshift them into being.”
Nyx looked thoughtful, “What would happen if I did both?”
Rhys shrugged, “Not sure…probably end up with two sets of wings?” Nyx laughed at the image, his laughter sparking an idea in Rhysand’s mind. “Now that you seem to be in better spirits…want to use this new found ability for a prank?”
Nyx’s grin grew devilish, “What’s the idea?”
—
Cassian placed the training sword back on the rack as he used a towel to mop the sweat from his forehead. Azriel was doing much the same nearby, but both of their attention was drawn as another person landed in the training ring.
Turning around revealed Rhysand as the new arrival, but that wasn’t what made him worried. The disposition his brother now held had the hair on the back of Cassian's neck standing up. Not much rattled him, if he was this frantic, something was very wrong.
Azriel noticed as well, stepping forward to place a hand on Rhys’s shoulder, the other going to Truthteller’s hilt, “What’s going on?”
Rhys shook his head as if he were still trying to process what was going on, “I-It’s Nyx.”
Dread coursed through him, “Nyx? What happened?”
Rather than responding, Rhys gestured for them to follow him. He took back to the skies, and with a brief glance at one another Cassian and Azriel followed suit.
Soon they landed on the front lawn of the River House, Rhys seemed to be trying to still his worries, likely so he wouldn’t frighten his son. Cass ran over all the possibilities in his mind. Had Nyx been hurt? Had his magic overwhelmed him? Had he hurt someone else with said magic? Was everyone else in the house okay?
He wasn’t getting any answers out here, but thankfully Rhys had composed himself enough to head inside, his brothers close on his heels. Inside Feyre paced the length of the foyer, as distressed as her mate was.
Cassian quickly made his way over to the female he considered a little sister, making a point to try and keep his voice calm. “What’s going on?”
Feyre sniffled, “I-It’s Nyx…he was training…h-he–”
“We’ll figure this out, Darling.” Rhys’s voice, though firm, was shaky with uncertainty.
“Figure what ou–”
Before Azriel could even finish his sentence, the boy in question stepped into the foyer. Suddenly the pieces began clicking into place. While it was certainly Nyx who stood before them, he looked so much smaller without his wings. Where the hell were his wings?!
The question didn’t have time to pass Cassian’s lips before the boy hung his head, his confidence apparently having vanished with his wings. Both Rhys and Feyre moved to his side, whispering reassurances and promises that they would figure out how to get his wings back. Despite their words, he could see the unnerving glances that passed between them. They had no more information on this than anyone else did.
Azriel recovered his bearings first, his shadows tucked in tight as he observed their nephew. “You said this happened while training, have you tried to get your wings back the same way you vanished them?”
Nyx nodded emphatically, “I-I tried!”
The panic in the child’s voice snapped Cassian out of his stupor, “Breathe Nyx. Your parents are right, we’ll figure this out. You’ve got so much magic, there’s a chance you just shapeshifted.”
The lame excuse didn’t placate his nephew, “Mom walked me through the shapeshifting too…” Tears filled his eyes, “I-It didn’t work either…”
Both uncles shared a heartbroken look as Nyx sniffled. Both of them had had injuries in the past that nearly cost them the use of their wings. The idea terrified both of them. Cassian didn’t know what he would do with himself if he couldn’t fly anymore. Flying was important to every Illyrian, full-blooded or not. It was a crucial part of who they were. It was one of the many reasons they had fought so hard against wing-clipping.
Feyre ran a gentle hand along her son’s back in an attempt to comfort him, but it didn’t seem to do much good. Nyx wasn’t a whiney kid by any means, even when he took a hard hit in the training ring. Cassian had watched time and again as the boy’s eyes welled with tears, fully ready to jump to his aid. Nearly every time he had blinked them away and gotten back to his feet without fuss. Illyrian to the core.
Now that same strong kid all but crumpled into his mother’s embrace, burying his face in her dress as his shoulders shook with his sobs. Cassian took a single step forward before the sound reached him, and he realized Nyx wasn’t sobbing. He was laughing?
“I-I’m sorry!” Nyx lifted his head, the tears suddenly gone, “I-I c-cant help it!”
Any further explanation was cut off by laughter. Cassian and Azriel were so stunned that neither of them could do anything until Rhys began to laugh as well. “Y-You did perfectly, Nyx! They bought it hook, line, and sinker!”
Cassian whorled around on his brother, “What is going on?!”
No one said anything as Nyx sketched a bow, his flare for the dramatics only rivaled by his father’s. As he rose back to full height, his darkness swirled behind him and in the blink of an eye his wings had returned. He even extended them so his uncles could see that there wasn’t a flaw on them.
Reigning in his laughter, Rhys turned to the confused Illyrians. “Nyx did have a scare earlier when a surge of his magic caused his wings to disappear.” He smiled in a way Cassian had only seen since he’d become a father, a deep rooted pride shining there. “Turns out he just has the same ability I do to summon and vanish them.”
Cassian placed a hand over his racing heart, “And you decided that the best way to tell us that was to make us think our nephew had lost his wings altogether?!”
Azriel sighed, rubbing his temple, “Are you surprised by that?”
“No, but I’m still annoyed!” Even Feyre snorted now, causing him to whip around to face her, “You were in on this too?!”
Feyre nodded, but it was Nyx who spoke, “Mom was the first one who figured out what had happened. I ran to her in a blind panic when they first disappeared. She told me to wait for dad to get home and that he would be able to help. Sure enough it worked.”
Azriel paused, “Hold on, there’s something else I want to know…when did you learn to fake cry?”
Nyx chuckled, “I can’t. That was a glamor.”
Rhys grinned, “He’s gotten quite good at those.”
Cassian huffed, “This is the last time I believe you on anything serious.”
“You’ve been saying that for the last five-hundred years.” Rhys chuckled, “You still react the same every time.”
*****