Kalian blinked his eyes open, but couldn't make out his surroundings through the fog that swarmed his vision. He did know that he was lying on his stomach, and he felt...different. Kalian shifted his arm, drawing his hand closer to his face.

    Grass rustled beneath his fingertips before he bumped into thick, padded material. Kalian blinked again, his vision clearing slightly. He was lying on a bedroll. He was surprised to find himself shirtless, though he still wore pants. His entire body was stiff and his neck ached as he turned his head.

    Instantly, everything began to spin. Kalian closed his eyes and braced his palms near his shoulders. He attempted to lift himself, then cried out as lightning spiked through his shoulders and down his spine. Kalian dropped back down, but managed to hold himself steady on one elbow. He peered over his shoulder.

    Breath fled from his lungs and a weak tremble spread through his body. He needed to look away. He knew he needed to. He couldn't. Where his wings had once been, there were only bandaged stumps. Kalian's mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find his voice. To scream, to cry, he didn't know.

    His wings were gone. His wings. His wings. His wings. His stomach churned and Kalian twisted off the bedroll just before he vomited. He emptied his stomach again and again, though nothing but liquid came up. How long had he been laying there? Who had taken care of him? What had...

    Kalian looked over his shoulder once more. A low, hoarse sound clawed its way up his throat. His eyes burned, but no tears came. Kalian struggled to push himself onto his knees. Somehow, he managed, but there was no weight to steady him. Pain rocked through his limbs.

    Kalian fell to his hands and knees, shuddering violently. His wings. His wings. His wings. He made that sound again, halfway between a scream and a sob. His wings. His wings. His wings. They took his wings! This time, a scream tore from his parched throat.

    He dug his fingers into the dirt, screaming, screaming, and screaming. Magic rippled through his veins. The ground beneath his body cracked. He couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't stop screaming. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his breaths came in short gasps. His wings. His wings. His wings!

    "Kalian!" Someone hollered. He didn't know who. He was aware of nothing but the pain in his back and the lack of steadying weight. "Kal, stop!"

    "Bellamy, don't. He's dangerous right now."

    "To us or himself?"

    "They took my wings," Kalian sobbed. "They took them. They took my...my..." He hid his face in his hands again, unable to silence another agonized scream.

    "Get out of my way," a third voice demanded.

    "He's not himself. He won't recognize you. You don't understand what this loss is doing to him."

    "I understand that us doing nothing won't help him!"

    "He took my wings!" Kalian wailed. "He took my wings! He took my wings! He took my wings!"

    "Kalian." A dark figure knelt before him.

    "Don't touch him. His power is unpredictable."

    "Kalian," the voice repeated, ignoring the warning. The voice was quiet and gentle. It was familiar.

    "He took my wings," Kalian rasped. His tears continued to fall as he lowered his head. "No, no, I...gave them. I gave them to him."

    "You did." A cool hand cupped his cheek, wiping his tears away. "You did give them away, Kalian. Why?"

    "I don't know," Kalian whispered. "I can't remember. It's all blurred. Everything is gone. It's all gone." His voice rose. "My wings are gone. My wings are gone!"

    "Kalian." A second hand touched his other cheek. "Breathe."

    "Moira..." that other voice began.

    "Let me handle this. I'll call for you if I need help."

    "But what if..."

    "Go, both of you."

    "I can't!" Kalian gasped. "I can't. I can't breathe. My wings..."

    One hand drifted to the back of his neck and wove through the ends of his hair. Kalian could scarcely draw a full breath. He was trembling hard enough that it was a wonder he didn't just fall over. A forehead rested against his and he found himself looking into a pair of glittering onyx eyes.

    "Breathe," she murmured again. She drew in a deep breath and released it through her mouth. Kalian attempted to copy her, focusing on the fingers toying with his hair. The sensation was oddly soothing.

    "I feel...wrong," he whispered.

    "What would make you feel right?"

    "I don't know." He closed his eyes and some of his magic abated. He continued mimicking the woman's breathing technique. Gradually, a level of calmness crept over him. Kalian glanced at the woman through half lidded eyes. "Moira?"

    "Are you with me?" She watched him, concern shining within her dark gaze.

    Kalian swallowed hard. "Mostly." He turned his face away. "I... I didn't mean..."

    "We'll talk later." Her words were laced by a hard edge. When she next spoke, it was gone. "Let's get you taken care of first."

    "You should've let me die," Kalian rasped.

    "What?"

    "You should've let me die," he repeated. His heart faltered. "I can't live like this. I can't... I..." Kalian stared at his shaking hands, more tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "I have nothing. He took everything from me. You should've let me die. I wish I was dead. Why can't I just fucking die?" He doubled over, wrapping his arms around himself.

    Moira grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her gaze. "You can't die because you still have a purpose here," she growled. "Your people need your help. Samson and Bellamy need your help. I need your help." She brought her face closer to his, lowering her voice as she continued. "And if you think I'll let you die without explaining yourself, you are going to be sorely disappointed."

    Kalian couldn't form a response. Moira's gaze softened and she brushed his tears away yet again. "Let Samson look at you. He can ease the lingering pain. And you need to eat and drink something. It's been almost three days."

    "Three days... The Ironblades could be through the mountains by now. We need to go." Kalian attempted to stand. "We need to..." He cried out, toppling forward. Moira shot to her feet and wrapped her arms around his middle, keeping him upright. Kalian squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his nausea and pain to fade.

    "Easy," Moira murmured. "The Witch said you'll be very disoriented for a few days."

    "Witch?"

    "Let me get you taken care of and then I'll explain."

    Kalian managed a nod. He leaned heavily on Moira as they started back towards a makeshift tent. He could just make out Samson and Bellamy's figures inside. "Why are you still here?" Kalian whispered. "Them I understand, but why you?"

"When we love someone, we don't give up on them." Kalian opened his mouth, but Moira shook her head before he could speak. "No more questions, Kalian. Let's take care of everything else first." He offered no protest and they soon reached the tent.

☽◦༻◦☽◦༺◦☽

    Moira sat across from the three men, watching as Kalian half heartedly ate a bowl of stew. Bellamy was sitting beside him, throwing pointed looks at the bowl every time Kalian let his spoon linger in it a little too long. Samson knelt behind Kalian, carefully redressing his wing stumps. He'd used his magic to numb Kalian's pain, which was the only reason Kalian was able to eat while Samson worked on him.

    They'd all said very little, save for Kalian's occasional questions about his injury and Bellamy's encouragement for him to eat. Samson finally drew back and tossed the old bloodstained bandages into the fire. Embers flew and Kalian jumped, his eyes growing wide.

    Moira unsheathed her sword and carefully used it to throw ash over the burning logs. The fire pit continued to radiate heat, but now, there were no leaping flames to contend with. Kalian relaxed slightly. He set his empty bowl down and began rubbing his thumb over one of his scarred wrists.

    "Are you going to explain now?" Bellamy asked. "I've been pestering Samson about it nonstop but he won't tell me anything."

    "It's not my story to tell," Samson replied with a shrug.

    "Yes, I'll explain." Kalian's voice was faint. He didn't look at any of them as he began to speak. "I once served King Torin, King Arius' late father, and was one of the best spies in the Night Faeire Lands. My King and Queen began to suspect the Ironblades were planning a larger attack against Faeriekind and they needed someone to investigate."

    "My old friend Gabriel, King Arius' cousin, recommended that they reach out to me and ask me to gather information for them. I agreed and found your unit. When I first joined, I had no intentions of staying long or doing anything that would make things more difficult. I was going to gather what information I could and leave as soon as possible."

    "But...that proved difficult. There was no way I could gather information without getting close to you." Kalian's denim eyes met Moira's briefly. "To do that, Bellamy suggested I try to become your Second."

    "I had no idea what he was," Bellamy piped up.

    "You didn't," Kalian agreed. "And I wanted to keep it that way. I didn't want any of this to happen. No friendships. No alliances. No..." He combed his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "But for whatever reason, I gained all of those things anyway. I never meant to hurt any of you. I tried to be as honest as I could. I tried not to form relationships with you. I just..." He shook his head, falling silent.

    Moira pursed her lips, mulling over his words. "I failed all of you," Kalian whispered. "But maybe there's a chance that I won't fail my people. Help me send them a warning, please. My kind doesn't deserve to be wiped out just because of the actions of a few. There are innocents among them. Mothers, fathers, children." His voice broke, and Moira knew he was thinking of his own wife and daughter.

    "We found a Witch to heal you," Bellamy said. "I told her what the Ironblades' plans were. She already warned every Witch in the Faerielands. Your people will be prepared, Kal."

    Kalian stared at Bellamy in shock. "Thank you."

    "Help me find my sister, and I'll consider your debt repaid."

    "If we're going to help the Faeries now, we need to leave tomorrow," Moira interrupted. "Will he be fit to ride?" She glanced at Samson.

    "As long as he's with someone," Samson confirmed.

    "Good. Though, we're still going to need another horse or two. Bellamy, will you help me?" Moira rose, facing the young man.

    He nodded and followed her out of the tent. "You can't avoid him forever," Bellamy pointed out.

    "I won't," Moira promised. "I just need some time to think things through."

    "I understand."

    "Do you think he does?"

    "I think he hopes you'll never speak to him again. He'll believe he deserves it, and maybe he does. But personally..." Bellamy stroked his chin, a thoughtful look crossing his features. "I think his actions are a true sign of loyalty. He gave up his vendetta to help his people. Then, he gave up his people to help you."

    "Is it loyalty or fickleness?" Moira countered.

    "Loyalty," Bellamy replied without hesitation. "He is loyal to those he loves, and values their safety above all else. I think that's a rare trait to find in anyone these days. People tend to think more about themselves and what they stand to gain, rather than thinking of others and not sparing a thought for what they themselves might lose."

    "I think he regrets his decision."

    "I think he's a broken man who isn't himself right now. If he knew he'd regret his decision, he never would've made it in the first place."

    "He would've sacrificed his wings for his daughter," Moira murmured, half to herself.

    "But he did sacrifice them for you," Bellamy pointed out.

    Moira didn't reply. She and Bellamy grabbed Jasmine's tack, then approached the mare. Soon, they were riding away, in search of additional horses.