The City of Kaitos stood near an array of mountains called the Tarazed, named for their tendency to block off offensive armies. The city itself was comprised of tall buildings, the kind where you could see the first couple of floors from the ground and the last from the stars. The material was glass: a greenish type of glass that had each building twinkling exquisitely in the moonlight.
There were two kinds of people in the City of Kaitos: the winged and the walkers. The winged were sacred, worshipped by all, and the walkers underwent a superfluous amount of drawbacks in their wake. There were blood sacrifices every evening, sacrifices made to the winged. A winged needed a sacrifice every night. Of course, the ones to be sacrificed were the accused, the people who had disrupted this perfect society with their crimes.
Ceti Katerra was a half-winged. He carried an angelic, striking appearance. His green eyes were large and open to the world, warm to ...view middle of the document...
Plumages formed elaborate patterns, almost like pictures, when she spread them out. They were beautiful, and they were the only things that set Reda and him apart.
At nightfall, the two sat atop the golden building, the only plated building in the whole city. She would take him by the hand and spring from the place without warning, sending his heart racing. The more they spread apart, the more it felt as if he had wings too. He wasn’t a walker up there. He was a winged.
In the morning, though, Reda was alienated from him. She would go to her school, someplace in the sky, and he would go to his. There were no other half-winged in his school, which he felt was absolutely unfair. He had no friends there. He would just sulk in the shadows of his classrooms, opening the olden texts and praising the winged.
It was early December when his fate switched paths. He was hungry, hungrier than he ever had been before. Reda brought food to him here and there, but it was against the order, and she was in constant fear of being chastised. Ceti would scream at her silently for being so stupid. The winged were not once ever chastised or blamed, no matter what they did. Everyone knew that.
There was a food stall in the focal point of Ceti’s town. It mocked the villagers: it was covered in salted fish and meat. Delicious oysters and greenery offered themselves to the world. But no one could find the money for the stall-owner’s prices. No one would even think of stealing from the stall, though. Everyone who had tried to was never seen again; blamed and sacrificed.
It was late; nearly his meeting time with Reda, and Ceti was determined to take his cut. He strolled casually past the stall numerous times before coming up with a plan: he was to walk past as if heading for the library across the road, and take one of those delicious looking pieces of meat as he went. There it was, a sound plan, and it would undoubtedly put something decent into Ceti’s stomach.
He drew a few deep breaths before starting his trek across the block. The journey was slow and stressful: each step felt like miles and miles. Suddenly, the stall was right beside him, and he snatched a piece of that thick red meat.
His loose shirt became snagged.