by Ivy Asher
I was born in 1994.
So where is the baby that my mother was pregnant with in her journal? Because there’s no way that baby could be me. I assumed it was when I first read her diary, but now I don’t think that’s possible.
Did they lose the baby? Do I have a sibling out there somewhere? No, that can’t be right, why would they raise me and not that child? My parents may have been a lot of things, but they loved me. They wouldn’t have abandoned me for anything, and I don’t see them doing that to any child they had.
My mother’s face from my dream memory of the night she died surfaces in my mind. The way the moon lit up her face, and the shadows tried to hide the sadness in her eyes. I can’t even imagine what she went through in life. The running, the possible loss of a child, the struggle to keep me and our family safe, just to lose in the end.
Tears quietly drip down my face. I feel so sad for her. So sad for everything she had to face. She tried to tell me goodbye, to prepare me for her loss and leave me with words she hoped would comfort me in the future. I just didn’t realize that until now.
I swipe at my cheeks. I haven’t cried over my parents in over a decade at least. It was hard for me at first to understand and accept that I wouldn’t see them again. That there wouldn’t be any more hugs, kisses, and cuddles from my mommy. No more lessons, bear hugs, and wrestling with my dad. It was tough, but eventually life without them was all that I knew. I accepted it and had no choice but to move forward.
So it surprises me that right now, I feel something inside of me splinter, and all kinds of memories and sadness come seeping out of the cracks. I shove the blanket against my face and mourn. I grieve for all the times it would have been nice to have them. The times I needed the kind of affection and softness only a loving mother can give. Or the guidance and strength that my father always had at the ready. I feel the echo of my mother’s lips against my head. Hear her soothing voice as she tells me that she loves me and that she’s sorry. And that fractures me even more, because I’m old enough to now understand how heart-wrenching that must have been for her.
I sit in my anguish and watch the fire until it’s nothing but embers. I watch their red glow as I try to convince myself that maybe I would have ended up here even if they were still alive. It’s possible that I could have grown up my whole life knowing what I was and what I could do, and by trickery or choice, I would have found that gate anyway. I tell myself there’s no point in blaming or trying to make sense of it all, because in the end, it doesn’t matter.
I’m here.
Does understanding the catalysts behind why change anything? No. Regardless of how or why, I’m still sitting in a cave, needing more sleep, while the soft breaths and sounds of deep sleep float all around me.
Treno suddenly snore-snorts and rolls over onto his side. I watch him settle back down in his sleep, and I begin to wonder if he’ll ever be able to forgive me. Before I saw his outrage with my own eyes, I would have thought the angry gene skipped him and that his brother got the gryphon’s share. He’s always seemed so chill before. But now, I don’t know what to think. He hasn’t left, but maybe having nowhere to go has more to do with that than I do.
A small voice in my head argues that he has to forgive me sometime, we’re mates. But the more I examine that thought, the more I doubt it. Mates. What the fuck does that even mean? I know plenty of married people out there who don’t like each other. And yeah, yeah, yeah, mates are supposed to be different, some biological and magical thing that sparks up and then fucks with your destiny, but look how well that’s going for me so far.
Looks like destiny knows me about as well as I know the gryphons I’m tied to for the rest of my life. I sigh and rub at the ache that’s rippling through my chest and throat. My eyes land on the dark corner that soft snores are steadily flowing out of. I don’t even know what to make of him. I legitimately believed that the next time I saw Zeph, he’d try to kill me. Instead, he crashes through a ceiling and saves my life. Has he forgiven me for what happened in my room? Have I forgiven him?
I run frustrated fingers through my hair. So much damn forgiveness, and lack thereof, just floating around. Everyone in here needs it, no one seems to be in a hurry to give it, and our futures are kind of riding on it. Forgiveness, I dub thee a powerful and elusive little bitch. My thoughts wander to the vault I currently have locked up and chained in my center.
Pigeon.
How long do I plan to stay mad at her? Yeah, she fucked up, but who hasn’t at this point? She did sort of try to fill me in...sometimes...when she wanted to, and if I had been really paying attention to what was going on around me, maybe I could have made the connections. That thought sends a new wave of frustration through me. I shouldn’t have had to be stumbling around in the dark though; she should have tried harder to explain things to me. She should have had my back.
We’ve practically been at odds since we first discovered that we had wings. I yelled at Zeph earlier that being his mate should have earned me some benefit of the doubt, but I realize in this moment that I haven’t given that to Pigeon at all. One thing after another has caused resentment to build, and it’s clearly not one-sided.
We’re supposed to be one, but we can’t even get on the same page about most anything. There’s no trust, no respect, and no understanding. No wonder everything is so fucked up. We’ve tried. I think back to the training we were doing together when we were in Kestrel City. We were working to physically sort out the differences and transitions between me and Pigeon. But then Treno dropped the mate bomb, and I shut Pigeon out.
I locked her away as though my feelings and needs were more important than hers, and now here we are. Pieces of what we should be. We should have been training our bodies and figuring out how to trust and rely on each other. I thought we were, Pigeon probably did too, but our efforts to rely on one another were tenuous, and the wounds we both had inflicted before by not being there when we needed it were still fresh.
I don’t want to hate her anymore. I don’t want to be at odds with the other part of my being. I can’t do anything that needs to be done without her. I don’t want to, and that means that we need to figure some shit out.
I start removing chains from the outside of the vault that I’ve shut Pigeon in. I think about what I want to say and how I’m going to say it as I work to gain access to the vault door. I need Pigeon to know that we have to be a team. Anything else just isn’t going to work. We have to trust each other. Rely on each other. We need to get on the same page about all this mate shit and not hide vital information from each other.
She needs to know that I messed up too. I didn’t listen. I didn’t try to understand what she needed from me, what drove her instincts. I was so wrapped up in my head and focused on what I wanted that I didn’t take the time to really get to know her, to learn about the gryphon that’s as much a part of me as...well, I am.
I unlock the vault door and shove it open. I expect Pigeon to be there waiting inside, ready to come out and have the heart-to-heart that we’re in such desperate need of, or maybe try to bitch me out, but there’s nothing there.
I’m surrounded by black silence.
“Pidge?” I call out hesitantly.
Nothing.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
My heart starts to pick up its pace, and I’m suddenly reminded of all the years I thought I was a latent. How horrible it felt to have my animal trapped inside of me with no way to get out. I felt incomplete, like I was defective. I was only a shard of what I could have been, and knowing that was devastating and felt completely wrong.
And now here I’ve gone and shut her off deliberately. More guilt pools in my gut. I don’t want Pigeon, or me, to ever feel that way again. But all I sense right now is the heavy, shame-riddled beat of my heart.
Did I hurt her?
Fuck...could she be lost again, like she was before?
I push into the vault inside of me with a shout. “Pigeon, I
’m sorry. Please come out!”
Lavender eagle eyes blink to life in the distant darkness, and relief washes through me. Pigeon’s features are barely discernible, cloaked in the shadows of the dark place I’ve exiled her to. She cringes against the light pouring in from the open vault door behind me, and I feel her rage and desolation surge.
“I’m sorry,” I offer again in defense of the hurt and rage I suddenly feel rippling off of her, but it’s not enough, my words feel inadequate to even me.
The nothingness of where I’ve banished her to wraps around me like cold chains. Mistrust, dishonor, fury, abandonment, all make up the texture of this place, and I wish all at once that I could yank these things from the fabric of Pigeon’s and my foundation and build on more loving and understanding solid ground.
Tears prick my eyes. “Pigeon, I—” My words and heartfelt sentiment are shoved back down my throat when she attacks out of nowhere. Quicker than a striking snake, she slams into me with brutal force. Shocked, I scream and fall back. I land on one hand as I try to catch my fall and throw the other palm out to try and protect myself.
The light in this place dims oddly, and I look up expecting Pigeon to be lording over me, like I did her when I shoved her in here. She’s not there. I search for her, ready to fling apologies until one hits its mark, but all I see is the light of the door into this vault growing smaller and smaller. By the time I realize what’s happened, it’s too late.
“Pigeon!” I scream, panicked, springing to my feet and running for her.
The light is only two feet wide now.
“Pigeon, don’t do this! Listen to me, we need each other!” I shout at her as I race to try to escape the brutal trap that I created for her.
“Please, I’m sorry!” I beg as the light reduces to a mere sliver.
“I need you,” I plead, but it’s too late. My words fall on deaf ears as I slam into the shut vault door where I’m forced to listen to Pigeon locking it from the other side.
“No!” I scream as I bang on the prison walls. “This isn’t going to fix anything!” I shout at her, but I don’t even know if she’s there listening anymore.
A cold darkness slithers around me, and I kick at the bleakness, refusing to accept that this is what Pigeon and I have been reduced to. We have to be more than just two warring sides, but how the fuck do we get across the canyon of distrust and pain now sitting between us?
“Pigeon!” I wail as my fists slam against the cool metal of the vault I’m now trapped in. “I love you, don’t do this!” I implore, but my cries are only met with deafening silence.
Out of nowhere, I’m hit with a fuck ton of sensations and pain all at the same time. It takes me a minute to collect my thoughts and understand what’s happening. I can feel my body ripping apart and reshaping, and yet I have no control over it. I’ve—we’ve just shifted.
Worry takes over my thoughts. What will she do? Will she freak out and try to escape, getting us all caught? Will the guys stop fighting long enough to calm her down? I can feel her rage pumping through our veins, and the last thing any of us needs to be dealing with right now is a psychotic, volatile gryphon.
I try to believe that seeing her mates all together will be enough to soothe her, but that will only stay that way if they all keep their mouths shut and put her before their issues.
Fuck, that’s never going to happen.
I pound on the walls of the vault and scream until my voice is hoarse. She doesn’t know what she’s walking into with her mates. She tried to rip Ryn apart the last time he pissed her off; will she do the same thing now? Can she, with our mate connection, I wonder and then realize she might not care what it does to us.
My voice quits altogether, and I can feel blood dripping off my knuckles from where I’m banging on my cell wall. Defeat filters through me, and I press my forehead to the cool wall and try to breathe through the shame and frustration I’m treading in.
“Fuck,” I whisper, lost against the cold barriers caging me in, and the word bounces back against my lips like this place wants me to choke on it.
I close my eyes and shake my head at myself. I should be pissed, but all I can think about is how long did Pigeon scream? How long before her voice gave out? How could I have done that to her?
I’m such an asshole.
Pushing away the guilt that’s thrashing inside of me, I try to focus on how the fuck I’m going to get myself out of this, because I have to get out of this. I have no doubt that, with the way Pigeon is feeling right now, she’s going to lock me in here forever.
I can feel my body, so there’s that. Right now we’re pacing, and Pigeon feels agitated. I can’t tap into my other senses, but I’m not completely cut off. So what the fuck can I do with that?
I start feeling around the inside of the dark vault I’m trapped in with my hands, as though my desperation is going to conjure a key. Wait a second! I created this vault. I pictured what I wanted in my head and shoved Pigeon inside. I cringe as the memory of that plays out in my mind—or is this Pigeon’s mind right now?
Walk away from the Inception speak, Falon. That meta shit will get you nowhere.
Okay, focus. I made the vault. That means I can unmake it, or maybe just change it? I don’t want Pigeon to think I’m coming for her, I just need her to hear me. I snort incredulously as an image of a bird cage pops into my mind. The irony isn’t lost on me. I focus hard on changing the vault into a bird cage. I make it as much of an eyesore as possible so Pigeon still feels like I’m being adequately punished while I try to fix all that I’ve fucked up with her.
I recall this creepy old dude who used to walk his parrots around the park. He’d have their dented silver metal cage on a cart, and he’d stroll them around the playground like that. I think he thought he was doing a nice thing. It always bothered me that he never thought to just let them out of the cage to experience the fresh air. He didn’t trust them to do what he wanted outside of the cage, so he would never let them out. I hate that I’m doing the same thing.
Anytime Pigeon does something that I don’t like, I lock her up. I expect her to be there for me, but if I don’t agree with what she wants or says she needs, I shut her out and take back control. I’m no better than the creepy guy walking his caged birds around the park.
I’m not sure how long it takes, but the vault I’m surrounded by slowly but surely morphs into Creepy Park Guy’s bird cage. Just as quickly as it does, all my senses slam back into place. Vertigo hits me, and it takes me a minute to figure out what’s going on. I’m bigger than normal, which makes sense because I’m definitely not in my human form anymore.
I tower over Ryn and Zeph as they talk to me. The way Ryn’s arms are extended and the rest of his body language tell me that he’s working to calm Pigeon down, but the hurt, confusion, and anger pumping through my gryphon body tell me it’s not working. Treno watches from where he’s leaning against the cave wall to my right. He looks relaxed, but his eyes intensely track every move Pigeon and I make.
Pigeon opens her beak and screams at Ryn. It breaks my heart to hear the pain in her screech. I hate what our mates have done to cause this, and I hate the part I played in adding to the bleeding hurt in her cry too.
“Pidge,” I shout at her from inside my beat-up bird cage, and she reels back as my voice bounces around our mind.
Ryn steps back, apprehension leaking out of his gray eyes. I watch his lips form my name in question, and Pigeon snaps out at him. He dives out of the way, and Treno pushes off the wall like he’s upset and ready to step in.
I’m hit with a wave of rage, like a kick to the chest, and I stumble back.
“Pigeon, I’m so sorry!” I yell at her, but she’s not having it. “I know you’re mad, you have every right to be, but please hear me out,” I beg.
A mental image of a brick wall slamming down between us fills my mind, and I shake my head. I picture myself taking a sledgehammer to it, and it crumbles in front of me like I’m doing exact
ly that. Pigeon throws obstacle after obstacle at me, and I tear, slice, and smash through them one by one. I’m determined to convince her to hear me out, but that just makes her more determined to throw shit at me.
“I can do this all night, Pigeon,” I call out as she slams a steel wall down, and I mentally shove a welder’s mask down over my face and spark up a torch ready to cut through it. “You can do this as long as you want, or we can cut to the chase and figure shit out, like we’re going to do in the end anyway. We only have each other, Pigeon.”
She flashes me Zeph’s, Ryn’s, and Treno’s faces.
“Right, and these assholes too...maybe...if they don’t kill each other,” I agree.
Pigeon pauses her barrage of barriers and studies me for a moment, like she’s not buying my capitulation. I stare right back.
“I mean, I’m not happy about it, if that’s what you’re looking for. They should have told me. You should have told me,” I point out. “I’m not stoked on the situation, and I’m not sure if you’ve noticed that neither are they,” I declare, gesturing to our trio of mates, who just so happen to be—surprise, surprise—arguing again.
Pigeon flings frustration at me like bird shit, and flashes me an image of the vault. I instantly feel like crap again.
“I shouldn’t have done that, Pidge. I was mad. I had every right to be mad,” I quickly add, “but I shouldn’t have shut you out like that. I’m so sorry,” I tell her, but she flicks the apology away with a wing.
She shows me an image of herself back in the cage and me outside of it laughing, and it feels like a slap.
“This isn’t a trick, Pigeon. I will never do that to you again. No matter what. I swear it on everything...like tacos and orgasms and puppies.”
Pigeon rolls her eyes, but I feel a trickle of amusement break through the hurt she’s feeling.
A roar fills the cave, and Zeph springs for Treno. Pigeon’s and my focus immediately goes back to the guys, and I groan and throw my head back in frustration. Pigeon jumps between them and snaps at Zeph and Treno each in turn. They back off immediately, but sorrow washes through Pigeon when Treno and Zeph proceed to yell shit at each other, their insults skimming over our feathers like razor blades. I watch as it dawns on her that this mating situation isn’t the happy gathering she hoped it would be.
