Arya opens her eyes to the sight of the clear blue sky and the sound of birds chirping a mystical song. The grass, damp with morning dew, cools her back that is firmly planted on the soft bed-like soil while the sun’s rays gently touch her bare shoulders. It takes her a few minutes to let her haziness subside before deciding to slowly get up, palms facing the ground and elbows pushing her upper body up. She lets her eyes adjust for a few seconds as she tries to remember where she currently is.

“Arya?”

Arya’s eyes snap to a certain direction when she hears a voice whisper her name through the wind. The voice sounds stern yet oddly deep and warm like chocolate. 'So familiar.' Her eyes roam the area, but not a single person was present, just a forest of trees.

“Come to me.”

Arya sits in complete silence, unable to move, as a million things run through her mind – Where is she? Who is with her? Is she dead? Is this heaven? Her breathing starts to speed up as panic starts to course through her entire being.

“Don’t be afraid,” says the voice, as if sensing her uneasiness.

“I won’t harm you.”

“Who are you?” Arya hesitantly answers, uncertain if it was the right thing to do. She hears a distant rustle as a flock of birds fly off from a nearby tree. Arya unconsciously grips the grass beneath her as she gulps at the thought of someone she did not know emerging from the forest that surrounded the clearing she currently lies in.

“Here. Come here. Just follow my voice,” the voice replies, almost pleading.

Arya slowly, hesitantly, gets up on her feet and for the first time notices the sudden change of her garments. Her matching blue pajamas has miraculously changed into a white tube sundress that hugged her upper body just right and flowed down just above her knees. She was barefoot, her toes curling at the feeling of the moist soil.

She tilts her head in question as her fingers touch the smooth fabric. ‘Weird. Am I supposedly dead?’ She brushes the thought off and look towards the woods - the sunlight unable to thoroughly penetrate through the thick green leaves of the trees that rise up four stories high. Arya gulps. As far as her logic can deduce, she has two choices; one, stay in the safety of the clearing and away from the uncertainty the forest brings and wait for whoever is out there to come to her, or two, venture into the dark wilderness to follow the voice that could or could not be her only way out, taking into consideration that she is not dead.

“If there is a God, please don’t let me die here. Please, please, please don’t let me get eaten by wolves or… vampires…” Arya utters to no one in particular as she takes her first step into the woods, hands tightly clasped together above her chest.

“Don’t be afraid,” this time his voice was softer, as if the man was trying to comfort her, “just go through the forest and I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”

Arya continues on despite the uncertainty of her directions. She just allows her feet to drag her through the dark forest, the muddy soil making her heels sink with every step. She longingly looks back, the light coming from the clearing slowly diminishing with every step she takes deeper into the dark territory. The sudden rustle of leaves and the sudden shadows passing by her peripheral view has got her trembling in fear.

‘I’m scared.’ Arya covers her ears and closes her eyes as the sound of rustling grow louder and distinct steps that did not belong to her start to get closer. ‘Somebody, help me.’ She can feel tears pool the side of her eyes as silent whimpers escaped her frowning lips.

“Arya, Arya. Shh. It’s going to be alright. Open your eyes. It’s going to be alright. I’m here for you. You just need to find me…”

Arya shakes her head, eyes remaining closed. She was afraid. So afraid. She’s in a place she has never been before and there’s a voice speaking to her in her head. A stranger’s voice. A voice she has never heard before, yet there is a small part of her that seeks its familiarity.

“Arya, listen to me. Shhh. It’s going to be fine.” the sound of his voice echoes in her head and she suddenly finds herself slowly opening her eyes again at the soft coaxing and promises. She takes a deep breath and continues to walk through the eerie forest, the holes that bore through the tree trunks looking at her like the eyes of undead souls.

“You’re doing great. Just a bit more.”

Taking courage in the whispered words, Arya moves further, the fear slowly disappearing as her eyes lay upon the slow-changing scenery – from where thin, sickly trees stood, huge rows of thick trunks and entangled vines that bloomed wild flowers of different shapes and colors have surfaced, a small creek of crystalline water flowed right next to her feet, and small animals she has never seen before greet her with curious glances.

Arya smiles at the new sight. The deeper she goes, the more beautiful and exotic her surroundings look. Her excitement fails to let her notice the unconscious way she treads through the forest like she has memorized the trail that leads to the voice she has been seeking. Her focus lays on the flora and fauna that flourishes in the mysterious forest that she can’t help but feel like a part of her distant memory.

“You’re almost here. Just a little bit more, Arya…”

The sudden whisper makes her momentarily forget her surroundings and realize what it is that she has led her to her current position. She looks straight, past the column of trees to see a shimmer of light that seems to symbolize as her final guide to her destination. Wasting no more time, Arya follows the ray of light until she ends up in another clearing, only a bit different from where she first woke up in. A vast lagoon greets her eyes, the colors of the sun’s rays reflecting on its deep blue, crystalline waters. Arya’s eyes wander around the amazing scenery before her gaze falls on a particular and oddly familiar figure in the picturesque view.

There, on the rocks by the shore, sat a figure cloaked in white, the rays of sunlight bathing down on the tall, slim physique. Arya gapes at the man before her – his porcelain skin and toned arms that seem to have been sculpted to complete perfection, his golden locks that seem to shimmer as bright as the morning sun, and his distinct jawline that seem like it can cut even the hardest mineral.

Unconsciously, Arya takes a step closer, wanting to see more of the perfection in front of her. Each step she takes makes her see more of the features that can put even Adonis to shame – long lashes, thin but lush lips, and-

Snap.

Arya stops in her tracks. '.' She stares at her feet to see a dry twig, snapped into two, under her foot. Arya slowly raises her head to see if she has been noticed, but what greeted her made her breath hitch and her heart to hammer in an irregular beat.

Blue. Ocean blue.

She finds herself staring at deep crystal ocean blue eyes that hold so much mystery. Arya lets her lips move to say a word but her voice gets caught in when she sees a smile form on his lips.

“You found me at last,”

He reaches out a hand to her, beckoning her to come closer and Arya can’t help but be mesmerized, her eyes never leaving his as she took small steps closer. She was under his spell and she has no complaints. It’s when she’s just a few feet away when she notices two white feathery objects peeking out of the man’s broad shoulder. She tilts her head in curiosity and as if reading her mind, the man reveals them to her complete astonishment and amazement.

Wings. Pure white angel wings.

“Arya…”

Arya returns her gaze to blue ones then to the hand that is just a few centimeters away from hers.  She hold out her own hand, ready to place it on the welcoming one when something suddenly hits her.

Chirping birds, the huge trees, and the lagoon. The man with wings.

She’s been here before. This was not the first time she was seeing all of this. Arya’s hand stops and she grabs her head as an impending headache starts to manifest.

“Arya…”

She stares at the pair of blue eyes one more time, then everything goes black.

~ξαναγραφεί~

“Dammit,” Yifan mutters in frustration the moment he gets his full consciousness back. Long, slender fingers run through his golden locks as he lets out a sigh. His seventh attempt. So close. So goddamn close yet still so far from his grasp.  

“Maybe I should change my approach…” Yifan contemplates as he stands up and stares at the lightly swaying branches of the huge sycamore tree where he is standing under - it’s wide old trunk full of cracks and chipped off bark, showing its ancient age and strength, and its rich green leaves that beckon the small wind sprites to play.

Yifan lets out another soft sigh escape his lips. ‘This is frustrating.’

Every time he tries to reach out to her, every time he gets a glimpse of her figure, something always, always, pulls her away from him. Just a mere inches away from her small, fragile hands, and just before he can grasp that snow white hand, she is dragged back to reality, leaving him alone in that fantasy with a dilemma.

This seventh attempt was the closest he has ever been, and he isn’t planning on making it the last.

As a hatchling, Yifan has always been the type who was never content with what he had. He has always felt as if something was missing, like a central puzzle piece was lost. It was during one of his daily adventures in the human world when he saw her in a garden surrounded by flowers. Something in him sparked and Yifan knew that she was what was missing in his life – he needed her to feel complete.

He remembers the way her golden locks dance with the wind as she ran through the knee-high grass while chasing yellow monarch butterflies. He remembers the sweet laughter that rang through the garden when she stumbled down in a bed of lilacs and tulips. And most of all, he remembers that spilt second when her rich chocolate eyes looked through his ocean blue ones.

Yifan can never forget the way his cheeks turned as red as the raspberries of Demeter with just a simple smile sent his way.

Ever since that fateful day, young Yifan has made it his ultimate life goal to make her his, and as long as he knows that there is a tomorrow, he will never give up. Failure is not an option.

‘If only I can leave this place.’ Yifan carelessly kicks the visible roots in frustration before letting out another deep sigh.  

‘I should just go home.’

Straightening up, Yifan lets his pristine white feathered wings spread wide and free on his broad back. With a roll of his shoulders, he lifts himself up, the flapping of his wings against the wind resonating in a steady rhythm.

Home. Yifan’s definition of home is the rundown temple that symbolize – symbolized – for what his Mother is, or to be more precise, was. Abandoned and forgotten, the temple has lost its purpose and standing in the kingdom of Olympus.

Mortals. Yifan knows that it is common nature for mortals to strongly remember those who leave a great impact and importance in their lives, those who grew under the spotlight or shone like the sun, and to slowly forget those who work in the shadows of the sparkling ones. So, it was not entirely surprising to him when his Mother’s temple slowly crumbled into its current state.

Nike, Goddess of Victory.

Ever since technology prospered, mortals have forgotten their duty and belief in the Gods, gradually dismissing them as fictional existence to be written in books. Books that tell of tales that center around the major Gods and some more important minor ones. They tell of stories of the victories of Zeus against the Titans, but not the story of how Nike was a vital player in the war, nor how she had blocked several assaults to protect the now almighty King of Olympus.

Yifan’s flying slows down as he lets himself stare at the clouds around him. If his Mother’s temple was as it used to be, he wouldn’t have to be stuck inside the borders of Olympus, caged and restricted.

They say that the sky is the limit.

Without another thought, Yifan soars in lightning speed upwards – towards the limit of the sky. Maybe, just maybe, if he keeps flying he’ll be able to reach the top and be set free. He can feel his limit when his back starts to throb and his wings start to shake with every flap.

‘Almost there.’

Yifan reaches out, a hopeful look in his eyes, but before he knows it, he’s spiraling down at tremendous speed towards the ground.

‘This is-’

He watches the distant sky as he continues to fall, bitterly chuckling to himself before he feels his back make contact with the hard ground and a resounding crack echoes. Instead of crying out in pain, Yifan just stares blankly at the blue sky, unable to move. He moves his arm, trying to get up, only to feel a numbing pain shoot through his entire back and limbs.

‘Crap.’ Kris moans in pain as he lies helplessly on the ground, suffering from his broken bones and fractured wings. This just adds to his never ending list of bad days. Yifan lets a soft sigh escape his lips, opting to just close his eyes and ignore everything around him.

“Over here! Quick!”

Yifan hears unknown voices getting nearer. ‘Great, now someone actually gets to see me in this state.’ He keeps his eyes closed as he feels the rustling of twigs and leaves, telling him that the strangers are getting closer to him.

“Do you think he’s dead?” a female voice speaks.

“No, I think he’s just unconscious. Help me carry him back to my cottage.” her male companion replies.

‘Wait, cottage?’

He feels himself get lifted up and supported by the two strangers as they struggled to drag him to the so-called cottage. Yifan keeps his eyes closed, his curiosity getting the better of him as he thinks about the cottage he is sure does not exist. He’s been all around Olympus ever since he was a child and he has the map of the entire place in his mind. No cottage exists in these parts of Olympus.

“He’s heavy.”

“It’s the wings.”

Yifan has to keep himself from opening his eyes and glancing at the mysterious duo who is currently chatting away on how heavy his wings are and how freakishly tall he is.

“He’s like a tree…” the female voice mutters as she continues to drag him. Yifan bites his inner cheek to keep himself from lashing out.

“Stop complaining, we’re almost there.”

At those words, Yifan carefully peeks through his lashes to see an open field of newly-cut grass and a quaint cottage standing proudly in the center of the field.

‘What is this place?’