Chapter Five
“Whether or not a male infant is allowed to live, his wings must be removed. There is never any condition under which a male child will be allowed to keep his wings except… when an Ensheduana declares he must keep them…. the reasons for which you should already know…”
— Excerpt from Ensheduana Conven Archives, Volume 53, Annum 13, Partially Degraded
Before leaving Pathosae, Te’ire always made an offering to the Goddesses.
At the base of a narrow rock cleft, where rain pooled and drained into the river below, Te’ire knelt, arranging his gifts with care. A handful of smooth shells collected along the shore of what he and Amaz had somewhat affectionately (when there had still been some small amount of affection between them), named the Isle of Sai, delicate bones of fish he had caught and eaten after his flight to this sacred place, a cluster of dried berries, and a gemstone—light azure with lavender inclusions, polished by the currents—found nestled in a nearby thicket just this afternoon.
He placed them reverently, resting his palm lightly against the warmth of the cleft.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of damp stone and fresh water.
“To the Goddesses unseen, the Ones who are forgotten, the Ones who exist beyond the walls of our known world, and to the Ones who guide our every step,” he murmured with a sigh.
Te’ire was so tired of being hidden away from a world that would strip him of his wings.
Or worse.
Sai had told him about the rituals performed on male infants across the whole of Nuama. She had no idea why he’d still had his wings when he’d arrived on their island.
“Or so she says,” he grumbled to Dimonda. The silkenpup lifted her head from the mossy rock on which she rested, her tail thumping against the stone.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, Dimo. You weren’t alive then,” Te’ire said, smiling at her despite his moodiness.
“Want to know a secret, Dimo? I’m nearly certain Sai could carry Amaz to Hagate if she wanted to. She could probably even carry him across the channel if the winds were light,” he mused, not for the first time.
“Oh, why doesn’t she, you ask? You are a curious one!” Te’ire teased the animal. “I think it’s because she wants Amaz to feel like he can’t leave. She’s never carried him across the channel, not even once. They used to have a boat, until I got strong enough to help her carry him—”
The crack of a falling branch, a splash as it fell into the water, interrupting his line of thought. Te’ire glanced down the valley, tracing the path of the snow-and-ice fed stream twisting its way through meadows lush with dozens of varieties of flowers and untamed Groveholds, to its origin—a tiered waterfall flowing over multiple rock ledges, creating a series of smaller falls.
Sestras never came this far north.
Why would they (even though they could)?
The Wildlands beyond the mountains were said to be inhospitable, freezing, barren. Even if Sestras had an interest in what lay beyond, the jagged peaks of the Kopu and Dar’kat Mounts acted as a near-impossible barrier, a natural wall separating the known world from whatever wastelands stretched on past the horizon.
And after all, there was so much beauty to be had outside the Wildlands.
Besides which, the few who tried to fly over the mountains were never seen again.
Yet here he sat, in a hidden valley in the Kopu Range.
Te’ire had discovered his secret paradise by accident—flying low along the coastline on a day when the winds were unnervingly calm, scanning the cliffs of the Kopu Range that jutted out over the sea.
The narrow passage leading to the valley was nestled just beyond the first peaks separating the rest of Nuama from the Wildlands. The crevasse had been nearly invisible, hidden between towering rock formations and masked by crashing waves. It was no more than a sliver in the mountainside, barely wide enough for him to slip through if he angled his wings just right.
The first time he’d attempted it, he had just seconds to spare before the crashing waves would have smashed him against the rock face.
Beyond the winding, seemingly endless passage—which he was forced to walk, as it was almost completely unflyable and he didn’t want to damage his wings by trying—he found something incredible.
It was not the frozen wasteland nor endless desolation said to lay beyond the Kopu Range—because it wasn’t that far north. Enclosed on all sides, rimmed by cliffs on the western end of the valley, it was sheltered from the worst of the winds.
The first time he landed here, he stood in stunned silence, listening to the water whispering over stone, the wind softening to a gentle breath rather than a roar.
The second time, he spent hours exploring—tracking the river upstream, flying between the tallest trees he’d ever laid eyes on, lying in the thick, mossy meadow and watching the sky shift through the hours.
Now, he returned whenever he could. Though he wasn’t foolish enough to attempt flying over the Dar’kat Mounts directly to the north. He didn’t have a death wish, and his luck in finding this place was more than enough.
Te’ire thought it was quite possible no one else had ever flown here. Perhaps only the Goddesses had stood on this bank where the river cut through stone and spilled into a small, hidden lake. Perhaps no one else had pressed their palm against these trees or waded through the waist-high wildflowers that swayed in the wind.
He’d named the valley Pathosae, because his path from the sea brought him here. He liked the poetic quality of the word. Path-o-say. He often hummed the name under his breath as he went about the chores asked of him by Sai.
He sighed, the sound echoed by the calm breeze flowing in through the cravasse.
He knew he was restless. Moody. Snappish.
Having been raised by Sai, a former Ensheduana, and Amaz, who was a Fa’loom in his younger days, Te’ire understood why he was feeling so impatient.
His body wanted to mate.
Sai had brought him a wooden liaspure and oil, informing him of how to use it.
Amaz, overhearing their conversation, smirked from the corner of their dwelling as he prepared last meal.
For some reason, that had enraged him. Amaz could still have sex with Sai, if she wanted. Which Te’ire thought was probably seldom.
But he could not—and would not want to—be intimate with his adopted Mother. The thought made him a bit sick, actually.
Sai had never crossed any lines with him, which he had absolutely no reference for the normalcy of. Perhaps she was following custom, perhaps not. He had no way of knowing and wasn’t about to ask.
And anyway, he was an oddity, so whatever ‘normal’ meant had never applied to him.
Te’ire shifted his weight, absently rearranging his offering. The breeze was picking up. He should leave soon.
Sai and Amaz didn’t know it, but he’d hid himself on the edges of Hagate a few times so he could watch the people there. Try to learn what others intrinsically knew, since they were all fully part of the world he’d been excluded from.
Fa’loom were wingless and covered head to toe in dark garments as they moved about the Mamlakah, just like Amaz when he went to Hagate. Only their faces were visible.
Except at night, in certain types of gatherings.
Then they were naked. He couldn’t believe some of the things that happened, the ways the human body could move when experiencing pleasure.
And of course he’d also seen women. Clothed or not—at the trade market, flying, in their tree-top courtyards suspended next to their dwellings during a middle of the night sexual encounter.
Once he saw two women together. Thoughts of that distracted him for weeks afterward.
When he had been about twelve annums, Sai had told him that he would never have the opportunity to be with a woman, and offered to remove his varapos and yezari for him.
Apparently, that would cause him to have fewer sexual urges. As of yet, he had declined that offer. He wasn’t sure how he felt about losing those bits of himself, though the thought of not caring as much about something he would never get to experience did sound like it could be a relief.
He wondered if the inside of a woman would really feel any better than his own hand.
Amaz said there was nothing that compared to the feeling of being with a woman, but Te’ire was smart enough to know the older man might just want to torture him with the thought. He hadn’t missed the fact that Amaz was jealous of his wings, and had learned to watch out for sly manipulations and comments.
Just the day before, annoyed at the older man’s manipulations, he’d told he he’d only trade with him if Amaz washed his garments for a full month. After reluctantly agreeing, Amaz—seemingly offhandedly—told Te’ire that removing his varapos and yezari would make him more docile, which he wasn’t sure he believed, but didn’t like the sound of. Rage sometimes felt good, though Sai said it shouldn’t.
It was just that he had so many reasons to feel angry, Amaz among them.
Ever since he’d gotten strong enough to help Sai carry Amaz, and Sai had destroyed the boat, Amaz hadn’t had a kind word unless Sai was listening.
Te’ire had learned to watch out for the older man’s sly manipulations and comments.
Just the day before, he’d told Amaz he’d only trade with him if Amaz washed his garments for a full lunar month.
After reluctantly agreeing, seemingly offhandedly Amaz told Te’ire that removing his varapos and yezari would make him more docile.
It was said with narrowed eyes and heart.
Te’ire knew better than to believe it, and anyway he didn’t like the sound of docility.
Rage sometimes felt good, though Sai said it shouldn’t.
It was just that he had so many reasons to be angry.
Te’ire stood, stretching his wings. The sun was about to fall behind the western peaks at the far end of the valley. He should leave soon, or plan on staying the night.
He walked towards the meadow, still deep in thought.
He’d once asked Sai about cutting off his wings—not that he was serious. As lonely as he sometimes was, his wings gave him the freedom to explore the world in ways no other man could. That gave him some small comfort even though he didn’t know any other men besides Amaz.
“Although I wasn’t really planning to let her cut them off, I’m glad she said no,” Te’ire mused aloud, absently patting Dimonda’s head.
They perched on a large flat rock above the river. The sun sparkled down, creating wavy pools of light that flickered and flowed among ever-changing currents.
“Why did she say no, you ask?” Te’ire would have blushed if anyone had overheard him pretending the pup was having a conversation with him, but he felt safe here.
“Well. Sai said no to cutting off my wings because I came with a note attached to my ankle. In it, my Mother wrote that whoever found me should not remove my wings. And since Sestras always respect the wishes of other Sestras, Sai let me keep them.”
Though, that answer had never felt quite right to him. It didn’t seem full somehow.
Talking to Dimonda kept him from thinking, so—
“Even without wings, I wouldn’t know how to behave. Fa’loom serve women in their dwelling. Or in their bed,” he grinned as he continued scratching Dimo’s chin.
“But I’ve been trained in almost none of the things I’d need to know to be a good Fa’loom, so even without my wings I would be useless. And worse, they’d know something was different about me. I’d be found out, and then who knows what would happen? Perhaps I would be trained as a Fa’loom. But since they are raised in the duug and taught how to serve and honor women from almost the moment they are born, that’s unlikely. I would probably be sent to Ga’huel. And I’d have no wings to escape,” he sighed.
The ridges and rock faces of neighboring mountain ranges pressed in upon him.
He felt so trapped.
~
A few days later, a visitor arrived.
Their name was Ahsa, and they were the only person Te’ire had ever spoken with besides Sai and Amaz. They were friends of Sai from when she’d lived in the south.
Ahsa visited every few months, bringing news of the outside world and treats they couldn’t grow here in the north. Once a year, they brought a larger stock of delicacies and supplies, which Sai helped them carry from wherever she’d met up with Ahsa, all the way to their little island. Those larger loads were carried in a skypod—basically, a woven bag with handles for two Cloudweavers to carry heavier items for longer distances.
Te’ire was outside when they descended from the sky, a dark silhouette against the pale clouds, gliding low over the waves before landing in the clearing beyond the dwelling. Their wings, small but powerful, sent loose sand and salt-dry leaves spiraling as they folded neatly against their back.
Even before they had touched the ground, Te’ire was already grinning, anticipation thrumming through him. A visitor. Even if it was not someone new.
The scent of them reached him—sharp wind, salt, a touch of something earthen, like sun-warmed cedar. And then, beneath it, something richer curling through the crisp air.
Amaz’s fish stew.
Simmering, fragrant, thick with the scent of brine and seared herbs.
Ahsa caught his eye, and a familiar half-smile lifted the corner of their mouth.
“Te’ire! How good to see you!” They grinned as they approached, pulling him into a tight hug, wrappping their wings lightly around him, as they had since he was a youngling.
“How was the flight?” Te’ire asked as they pulled apart and turned to walk towards the dwelling.
“Fairly smooth. No major problems,” they replied, openly admiring the dwelling Sai had created.
Nestled seamlessly into the landscape, the low stone house had been coaxed from the earth itself. Sai had carved it meticulously from the surrounding rocks by communicating with biological organisms within the rocks themselves.
The structure blended harmoniously with its rugged environment, its weathered, rough-hewn exterior bared the natural hues and textures of native stone, making it almost indistinguishable from the rocky terrain that cradled it.
The top of the dwelling was overgrown with lichen, mosses, and wild grasses, creating an illusion of continuity with the hillside. One large skygate was set into the stone, its round opening boreing deeply through the thick, rough rock to the dwelling within. The skygate was the only distinct break that could be seen in the otherwise unbroken, undulating rock face.
Near the skygate, Sai had planted every type of flower that could survive the cold and windy winters on the island. There were few of them, but one hardy flowering plant had managed to drape its tangling vines and tiny purple flowers that looked much like falling stars around the skygate.
Sai was coming towards them as they entered the dwelling, having been alerted to the presence of a visitor by Dimo’s excited yipping. Amaz was out, probably fishing. Though he’d said something a few days ago about exploring the tidepools on the far side of the island at low tide again, as he’d had the wild notion they may be hiding more gemstones, so perhaps that’s where he was.
“Ahsa! Welcome!” Sai and Ahsa embraced, and even though Sai went to the mainland and Hagate at least once every moon cycle, she still looked overjoyed to see Ahsa. Sai had friends in Hagate and a few of the other small Mamlakahs and outposts nearby.
Te’ire couldn’t have been more jealous.
~
That evening, as Ahsa always stayed at least one night, the four of them gathered on the beach, a few hundred paces from the skygate.
The fire burned low, its golden light licking at the sand, sending up quiet sparks that twined with the stars.
The night smelled of brine and distant rain, thick with the promise of abundance—by their standards, at least. Enough food, enough warmth, enough peace.
Te’ire barely heard the conversation—talk of a new trade vendor in Hagate, Empress Thelyrah’s only daughter and whether she’d accept the Rite, the loss of a ship to an unexpected storm in the southernmost waters of Kitsua—Sai glanced his way, quickly, almost imperceptibly, but—
His mind was in Pathosae.
He wanted to sleep at the base of the waterfall.
He’d told Sai why he liked it there so much a couple years prior, and she’d smiled and told him the sound of the waterfall likely reminded him of being in the womb.
He thought about her casual comment at least once a week.
But then again, what did Sai know?
She could be wrong.
Perhaps it reminded him of the beat of night-drums in Hagate.
Or the pounding of waves against the cleft of the entrance to Pathosae.
Or of the pulsing, sacred dance he’d observed the first time he’d seen a Fa’loom pleasuring a Sestra—
“What’s on your mind, Te’ire?”
Ahsa’s voice cut through his thoughts, soft but insistent, laced with the kind of knowing that made it impossible to lie.
He hesitated, staring into the fire. His chest felt like it might burst open, spilling his blood into the flames—
He didn’t know why he said what he did. He couldn’t have known that what came out of his mouth that night would set into motion things that could never be undone.
“I’m thinking about the fact that I will never be with a woman.”
The words sat heavy in the air, like stones dropping into waves from a broken cliff-face.
“And that for the rest of my life, the three of you are the only people I will ever see.”
Silence.
Amaz shot Sai a glance that could have been a look of triumph or disgust, but he quickly covered it with a bland, blank expression.
Sai’s eyes were glued to Tr’ire. She looked startled, then embarrassed. She started to speak, but Ahsa cut her off.
“Te’ire, I can understand why you’d feel that way—”
“No, Ahsa, you can’t! No one can understand what it feels like to know that I will never be able to be seen by anyone. I can’t talk to people, I can’t have friends, I can’t do anything! None of you have lived your whole life in isolation! You can’t possibly understand how I feel!”
All three of them remained silent. Suddenly, Te’ire was filled with shame for having lashed out at them. After all, if wasn’t their fault that his Mother hadn’t cut off his wings. She was the one who had sentenced him to this fate, not them.
“Oh, Te’ire,” Sai murmured.
His hands curled into fists in his lap.
“I’m never going to have a life!” The firelight flickered over his knuckles, tension coiled beneath his skin.
Then, before anyone could reply, he stood.
“I’m sorry. I’m going for a walk,” he spat out.
Sai moved to respond, but before she could protest, Ahsa murmured, “Let him go.”
~
Te’ire was sitting at the top of the bluff near the middle of the island when Ahsa found him. The air was a bit balmy despite the late hour, which was lucky since he hadn’t brought any coverings with him.
He wore only loose pants and a day-tunic belted with a wide sash that Ahsa had brought several months previous, topped with an embroidered vest made from the softest leather. The tiny gemstone beaded needlework was much nicer than anything he could ever make, and he often traced the swirls, stars, vines, petals and leaves of the pattern as he drifted off to sleep.
Ahsa had brought a blanket from the dwelling, which Te’ire refused when they offered it.
They sighed, sat down a short distance from him and wrapped the blanket around their own shoulders. They still had on their heavier flight vestments, and Te’ire thought they must be cold. Flying near the mountains could chill the bones this time of annum if one wasn’t careful.
“Te’ire-“
“Don’t try to comfort me, Ahsa. I’m not a child anymore. I’m sorry I acted like one.”
They were quiet. Waves echoed up and across the bluff, and Te’ire could tell it was high tide. Even if he somehow lost his sight, he knew he’d always recognize the sound of it.
“I just wanted to ask if there’s anything I can bring you to make your life here more comfortable,” they said. Te’ire scoffed at their question.
“Ahsa, every time you visit, you bring gifts for all of us. But you bring the most gifts to me. Why?”
“I feel badly for you, Te’ire. As you said, you’re quite lonely here,” they replied, shifting on the hard ground.
“That’s the only reason?” Te’ire pressed.
“Yes, of course. What other reason could there be?” Ahsa said.
They sat in silence for a few moments as Te’ire considered whether he wanted to speak his mind. Finally, he blurted out — “I’ve never been sure if you’re- if you- oh, just- are you my Mother?”
Ahsa took a deep breath, and Te’ire could tell they were trying not to cry.
“I’m sorry! I-“
“No, Te’ire, it’s alright. I’m just surprised it took you this long to ask. But no. I’m not your Mother. I’m sorry,” they whispered.
They sat in silence for a long while before Ahsa spoke again.
“Why didn’t you ask me before now? You must have wondered.”
Te’ire didn’t know exactly how to say what he was thinking, but he knew Ahsa would still care for him regardless, so he gave words to his thoughts the best he could.
“I wasn’t sure if- if you’re a Sestra,” he fumbled out.
At this, Ahsa became more withdrawn, and Te’ire was suddenly afraid that he had insulted them.
Was that an offensive thing to say? He had no idea.
“It’s alright if you’re not! Even those of us who aren’t daughters of the Goddesses still have a place in this world. Even the lowliest servant—” but he trailed off. He was simply regurgitating things Sai had told him. Things he had no way of knowing were actually true.
“Te’ire, I— I’m not a Sestra. I am just myself. But, I am called Sestra, because I do not align with the ways of males.”
“Are there more like you?” He asked.
“Yes, many. Infants who are not very clearly male are sometimes allowed to keep our wings. At age three, before we have full ability to fly, we’re evaluated for temperament and talents. If we fail those tests, we have our wings cut off and are trained to become servants. That’s what happens to the boys who fail the tests at the duug, too. And we are well-regarded. Thought to be bringers of balance, actually. Some of us present more as male, some more as female. I was born with no clear indication of either. I was raised as a woman, and I love all my Sestras. I would never want to be a man,” they stated.
“Who would in this world?” Te’ire replied, voice as dry as a desert that had never seen rain.
“Regardless of all that, though—I know I don’t really look like a woman, but that;s fnie with me. I like the way I look,” they smiled softly.
“I think you’re beautiful,” Te’ire replied, with a smile of his own. Ahsa was probably somewhere near Sai’s age or perhaps a bit younger—he had a hard time judging age—but they were just as attractive as anyone else.
“Thank you,” they smiled. “Have any other questions for me?” They teased.
Te’ire pondered their question. What else did he want to know?
“How many of — those who are like you are there?” Te’ire finally asked.
“Many. Perhaps ten to twenty percent of all who dwell on this world.”
He sat quietly and absorbed their words. He thought about asking more about what their life was like, but decided after a few moments that every question coming to mind was too personal. And anyway, it didn’t matter to him. Ahsa was still Ahsa.
There was only one thing left to ask. He took a deep breath.
“So if you are not my Mother, who is?”
“I—Te’ire… I ca—I don’t—” their voice broke.
And Te’ire’s heart shattered. He was nearly certain Ahsa knew. He was also certain they wouldn’t tell him. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they have just said they didn’t know by now?
“So she really did throw me away.” His voice was raw.
Ahsa inhaled softly, as if weighing their words before speaking.
“Te’ire… I— perhaps she was trying to save you—”
His breath caught. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—
“I need some time to myself.”
Without another word, he took to the air.
~
A few hours later, close to dawn, he alighted on an upper branch of one of the giant cedar trees in the Mamlakah of Hagate. He’d visited this dwelling a few times, most recently a few weeks prior. A young woman lived there with her Mother.
He’d seen her preparing a meal for her Mother, which he’d been told was Fa’loom’s work. She was quite handy at it though, and it smelled wonderful. His mouth had watered and he’d thought about it for days afterward. She’d had a smile on her face the entire time he’d watched her. Completely at peace. Happy.
As the night ran onward toward dawn, he waited and watched, buried deep in the dark of draping branches. As the cold of night faded to merely cool of early morning, the trees began to release their scent. The air was heavy with it. He’d been up for many hours, almost a full day, and so his eyes began to drift shut. He forced them open, pinched himself. Adjusted his body on the branch, opening his wings a bit so he could lean more comfortably against the main trunk, which was many times as wide as his wingspan. The branch he sat on was twice the length of his body.
The sky was beginning to lighten. He would have to leave soon, so as not to risk being seen. But just a few more moments…
Presently, the bioluminescent light sources within the tree-top dwelling began to flicker.
The inhabitants must be waking up. Te’ire sat up, pulling his wings closer. He gathered himself. He just wanted one glance of her, then he would-
She was at the window. Unclothed, because why wouldn’t she be? She was humming a tune that Te’ire had never heard. Tears pooled in his eyes. His chest ached. He clenched his fists. He just wanted to tell her good morning—!
Suddenly she stopped humming. She appeared to be staring right at him. There were several branches, all heavy with needles between them, but he could see her. She shouldn’t be able to see him, because he was still in darkness, while she was in the light of home—
“Hello?” She said. “Is someone there?”
He held his breath. He must leave—
“Hello?” He whispered, so soft he was sure she wouldn’t hear him. But she did.
Her voice was soft, edged with curiosity, not fear.
“Who’s there? Do I know you?” Her voice was curious, unafraid. Te’ire, however, was trembling. Should he reply again? Of course not, but he’d never wanted something so badly.
To have a conversation with another person, someone new—
“I can tell by your voice you’re a man. You know, you really shouldn’t be up this high. You could fall off whatever branch you’re on. What possessed you to walk out there, anyway?”
Her tone was so practical and aligned with what she knew of the world, he nearly laughed aloud. It would be dangerous for a man—any man other than him—to walk along the limbs rather than use the hanging pathways and bridges woven throughout the canopy. If they fell from this height, they couldn’t fly their way to safety. They would die.
Te’ire took a deep breath. He was going to answer her. He was—
She stepped forward, bare feet whispering against the wooden floor, her eyes still searching, wide and steady.
“Are you still out there?” She was amused, likely thinking a friend had come round and was playing some small joke.
He dashed the tears from his eyes.
He couldn’t stand it anymore.
He took a deep breath.
“Yes. I’m here.”
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