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Ignis
Elina Roupas
Out there, the city was getting ready to eat itself alive. I stroked his
feathered coat, brilliantly coloured in mahoganies, purples and
yellows. I glanced at the city below, ignited by the warm, comforting
flow of fire in the streets. Sensing apprehension, he looked in my
direction. His deep, blue eyes shone like sapphires. His head tilted
back into my hand as I stroked him, expressing his affection. I lifted
myself onto the broadest part of his back, gently straddling his
muscular figure. “This isn’t safe for you” I told him. With his
wingbeats and steps synchronised, he used our elevation to his
advantage and dropped off the perch.
First, there was panic. There’s always panic. The buildings came
closer, streets became wider and the madness that unfurled below
became clearer. The realisation dawned on me that I was going to
die a horrible, painful death. And then, he spread his wings. I
screamed, almost certain that no one could hear me. Looking below,
there were fires. There were clouds. There was a war. Way below,
they started firing. The cracks burst through the streets, I could
hear them all the way up in the air. I clasped onto his plumage in
fear, as he abruptly plunged downwards, as if we had reached a place
devoid of air. He let out a piercing screech and flung his head
backwards as the iron arrow pierced his body. The sky started to
tumble. Or was I the one tumbling? I was the one tumbling. I tried
to get up, but putting pressure on my arm was a bad idea. My wrist
had likely broken in the fall. I eagerly looked up at the sky as he
barely escaped, susceptible to the iron. I remembered the city
getting closer and closer, and hitting something. Then, my body
realised I was in pain. Lots of pain. The impact had probably been
somewhere around my stomach. I coughed up blood.
“The flying lady of Destronne,” the Urchin Lord said. That was
his name, he had taken great pains to inform me. “And what brings
her highness to our humble street? What brought you swooping
down with your majestic grace, to care for the poor and the
mistreated?” He held a worn wooden ruler in his hand, and he
raised my chin with its tip. Urchin Lord raised on hand, and the
surrounding crowd fell silent again. He brought out a large iron
stake, and handed it over to one of the Urchin children. The boy
grinned from ear to ear as he accepted the stake in both hands, and
held it reverentially. “I know about the phoenix Ada,” the Urchin
Lord taunted. Fear became a weight on my ribs and a dull ache in
my eyes, an unwillingness for my mouth to lift past neutral. I used
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