His steps were slightly unsteady but firm, one determined foot in front of the other, ignoring the way his wings were fluffed out from anxiety.

When the corrupted crown had been taken off his head in the final battle, Joey had been disoriented but okay, confused and with no memory of what had happened after he had put on the crown several months prior.

But when Xornoth was sealed away, it tore all of the demon's corruption out of the world and into the crystal with him. No one had realized that Joey, having been exposed and in direct contact with the corruption both inside and outside his mind, would be affected.

His mind had collapsed, a breath away from fully shattering. If he had still been wearing the crown, it would have been over for him.

But instead, the physical trauma from the power and magic Joey's body had unconsciously become so connected and attuned to (much like an addiction) rendered him nearly comatose, fully conscious and able to think but unable to move, walk, speak, or do anything without assistance.

It had taken him years to heal, to be able to relearn using his muscles and being able to control his motor functions and once again walk and speak and do things for himself without assistance. Some days were harder than others, but after the long recovery, he was finally almost completely back to how he was before Xornoth's banishment had backfired on him so violently.

Except for one thing.

Joey hadn't flown since that fateful day. Everyone agreed he'd probably regain flight instinctively since avians were never taught how to fly, they just started flying once their wings were big enough as children. But even weeks after he had been pronounced fully recovered and able to return to his duties as Emperor of the Lost Empire, he still hadn't flown.

Avians were born with the genetic instinct of flight. Without that genetic knowledge, they simple couldn't fly, no matter how hard they tried. There was the occasional avian, born unable to fly no matter what, missing that spark of magic and life within them that gave them the ability to do the great thing their bodies were built to do: soar amongst the birds and clouds, above the world and everything in it.

Joey refused to fly ever since having to relearn every single physical and motor function of his body. If Xornoth had taken his ability to fly, his greatest joy in life, the freedom of being able to soar, to feel the wind in between his feathers and swoop and dive and fly and fly and fly...

He didn't know what he'd do. He didn't want to find out. Better to never know than to have to live with the knowledge that he would never fly again, forever grounded.

When anyone asked him about it (which they didn't, if they valued their jobs), he simply said he had been too busy reacclimating to all the responsibilities of rulership to go for a flight, and then fired the servant in question for daring to question the emperor.

He couldn't put it off any longer. Every day he got more and more questioning and inquisitive looks, people frowning when they see him walking instead of flying places, using stairs and ladders meant for children and the elderly, never stretching his wings and keeping them firmly folded. They knew he had been gravely injured by the demon and had been healing, but it had been years. They expected him to be done by now.

And it wasn't just the people. Joey yearned to fly. He needed it, in his bones, to be fully healed, to finally be fully free of the demon and its harm and evil. He needed to fly, for himself and for his people. Even as terrifying and soul-crushing it would be to find out he couldn't.

Joey couldn't spend the rest of his life grounded out of the fear of being grounded.

And so he continued walking, one step after the other, up and up and up to the highest peak of the Fire Temple. He would jump from the top, and he would either fly... or fall.

The wind was brisk and cool when he reached the top, refreshing in the sweltering humidity and heat of the jungle. He walked over to the edge, the landing and takeoff platform enclosed from the main space at the top by a simple fence.

The jungle stretched out across the horizon as he stepped onto the platform, wings half-spreading to keep him steady in the strong wind from being so high up. He could see the river running through the trees, fading into the horizon and leading to the ocean beyond. He could see the smoke and sharply peaked roofs of the Grimlands to the south, and the tall caps of the mushrooms of the Undergrove to the east.

The wind ruffled his hair, the long blond strands falling around his face and shoulders and into his eyes. He brushed it back irritably, making a mental note to find someone to cut his hair later after he flew.

His foot teetered over the edge, wings now fully spread. The only thing left to do was take flight.

If he could.

Taking a deep breath, Joey shoved all his fear, his anxiety and the lingering insecurity that came from being so weak for years while he recovered, being cared for and fearing he'd never heal.

He took all of his frustration with having to relearn all his basic bodily functions, all of his pain and being so deceived and hurt by Xornoth, all of his insecurity about his worth as a disabled emperor and person, all of his fear of never fully recovering, Joey took it all and cast it to the winds, letting them carry it to the Sun and beyond and entrusting his fate to the holy spirits of the sky he and his empire worshiped, and he jumped.

Joey jumped, and he soared, wings outstretched and gathering every drop of wind, climbing up and up and up in a dizzying spiral until he pierced the clouds, the icy dew of them clinging to his skin in clear pearly drops that flew off as he twisted and dove, hurtling towards the ground with the wind in his hair and eyes and face and then he spread his wings and flew up, steading high above his empire with the trees blurring below him and the clouds above him and the whole world at his fingertips, and Joey didn't even realize he was crying until he tasted salt on his lips, and he flew and cried and soared and let all of his exhilaration and happiness expand to cover the entire sky, as great as his wingspan and as loud as the avian cry of pure joy that rang across the skies.

Joey flew, and while he still had a ways to go before he'd be as fit and healthy as he was before Xornoth, if he ever was, but he could do it. He would heal, and learn, and he would adjust to his new life the way he had refused to do so before out of fear and grief for his old self.

The sun shined, and the birds flew, and Joey flew with them.