The Honesty of Wings: The Corvid Legacy, #1

THE HONESTY OF WINGS

THE CORVID LEGACY

BOOK ONE

SUSAN CATALANO

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2022 by Susan Catalano

Cover artwork and design: Christian Catalano

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

1. Prologue

2. Rya

3. Bray

4. Vale

5. Rya

6. Bray

7. Vale

8. Rya

9. Bray

10. Vale

11. Rya

12. Bray

13. Vale

14. Rya

15. Bray

16. Vale

17. Rya

18. Bray

19. Vale

20. Rya

21. Bray

22. Rya

23. Vale

24. Rya

25. Vale

26. Rya

27. Rya & Vale

28. Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Books by Susan Catalano

To Noelle

- I hope your love of stories grows as you do

PROLOGUE

Black Bird Hollow—seventeen years earlier

Her husband’s blood coursed a thick, scarlet line down the cobblestone path to their doorstep.

Rowan, Layla whispered, the brisk wind stealing his name from her lips. Layla dropped to her knees and cradled her dead husband, his still-warm blood slick upon her skin. His amber eyes had lost their kindness, his arms their comforting strength. She smoothed his blood-soaked feathers and crooned a soft ballad between choking sobs.

The short, shrill calls of the Raven Guard pierced the early evening sky, warning of approaching intruders. She could no longer count on the enchantments to keep out the Shadows and Battian who hunted her family. They had to move now.

She tightened her embrace.

A baby cried, the sound too new to discern which of the triplets had made the plaintive call.

A gentle hand touched her arm. Come inside, Layla.

I can’t leave him.

Her mother’s voice brought no solace. There’s little time, my darling.

With the heel of her hand, Layla smoothed away her tears and took a strengthening breath. She leaned down and touched her lips to Rowan’s forehead, squeezing her eyes shut against past memories of kisses, then lifted the knit shawl from her shoulders and draped it gently over his face and torso. He deserved to be wrapped in a burial cloak of the finest silk and carried through the air by the Raven Guard. A proper funeral flight. But she would have to leave him where he lay if she wanted to save their children and preserve their legacy.

Layla stepped inside and, with one last look, shut the heavy wooden door—a knife-cut to the life they’d planned. She slammed all three bolts into place and leaned her back against the cool wood, eyes closed. Breathe, Layla, breathe.

She pushed away from the door, ignoring her mother’s tear-stained cheeks and worried gaze. Her voice came out harsher than intended. Get the children.

Not ready! came a squeaky voice from above.

With a swift flap of elegant, black wings, her mother ascended to the nursery nestled in the highest branches of the centuries-old white pine Layla and Rowan called home. Had called home. Layla followed, every beat of her wings weighted with grief.

The nursery had been transformed from a peaceful refuge for mother and children to a chaotic headquarters for a major, life-changing mission. Twelve of the largest ravens in Black Bird Hollow perched upon every available surface—the canopies of the three swaying bassinets, a tabletop, a wobbling stack of books, and the back of the rocking chair where, only hours before, Layla had nursed each child. One brave bird dared to sit upon Ping’s shoulder as the ancient little man worked the meticulous task of imbuing a maze of dots and swirls into Bray’s newborn skin.

Layla lifted Vale from his cradle and hugged him to her breast as she hovered over Ping. We must hurry.

Ping didn’t break focus from his task. This can’t be hurried.

She knew that, of course. Especially when the recipient was a squirming, fussy three-week-old baby. Imbuing the maps required a steady hand, focused magic, and more patience than Layla had. We have no more time.

Ping peered around the raven on his shoulder and gave a double nod toward the babe in her arms and Rya in the basket. Those two are finished.

Layla nuzzled Vale’s head, his downy black hair a whisper against her skin. She trailed a light finger over Ping’s artwork, which was already fading into the baby’s skin. Her children held the secrets of centuries. And they were in mortal danger. But she could save them if she acted immediately—if she did the hardest thing she would ever do. Layla handed Vale to Tansy, but her mother was already wrapping Rya in a plush blanket of raven feathers to protect her from the frosty air she’d encounter along her journey.

Layla steeled her mind and set to wrapping Vale in his own feathered blanket. How much longer, Ping?

Working on the seal, Ping answered. This is the trickiest part. No more yapping.

Layla opened her mouth, then snapped it shut under her mother’s warning gaze. She tucked Vale in tight, placing a tear-soaked kiss on his sweet-smelling cheek. Vale, she whispered against his soft skin. He’d been the first of the triplets to leave her body—he would be first to leave her once again.

She wove the feathers over Vale’s head and placed his cocooned wrapping into a sturdy, breathable carrier made of a deceptively flimsy gossamer fabric that was, in fact, an indestructible marvel. With a raven’s tap, the shimmering cloth would become invisible, hiding whatever lay within.

Her mother placed a wriggling Rya into Layla’s arms. Here.

Layla snuggled her daughter close, smoothing a wayward lock of silky black hair off her forehead. She kissed her button nose as Rya squirmed and cooed. Layla’s tears splashed upon the dots and swirls fading into her tender skin. One day you will be mine again. Then, as she’d done for Vale, she secured Rya in the cloaking fabric. Four ravens hopped into place at each corner. Four others surrounded Vale.

Pecking at a shuttered window wrenched Layla’s wistful gaze from her babies. With caution, her mother opened the shutter to reveal a raven perched on the sill. The bird croaked several times.

Pelonia has arrived, her mother said.

Ping’s head snapped up. The Blue! A creature meant to soar the skies is not—

He will soar the depths instead.

But Layla—

Layla straightened her back. Don’t you need to focus?

Ping sighed. The seal is complete. Please rethink this plan of yours.

It’s the only way to keep them safe. Layla reached out her hands. Now give me Bray.

Ping placed a drowsy Bray in Layla’s arms. She kissed his fluttering eyelids and soft cheeks. The air will wait for you, my darling. Together, she and her mother prepared Bray for his journey.

Layla took a deep breath and steeled her heart against the crushing despair threatening to derail her. She nodded toward the ravens that surrounded Vale and each gripped a corner of the cloth with their strong talons. Layla had known the traveling cloak would render Vale invisible, but the suddenness still caused her to gasp. Her child hadn’t left the room, yet he was already lost to her.

Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears as she gave instructions to the birds. Take Vale to the Gold.

Ping shook his head from side to side. That’s even worse than the Blue. They’ll turn him into—

Hush, Ping, her mother, Tansy, said.

Layla threw the shutters open wide, and without ceremony, the ravens lifted Vale and flew off into the waning afternoon. Layla watched until the birds were nothing but four small specks in the sky, her son hidden between them.

Bray’s ready, Tansy said.

Layla crossed the room and opened the double doors that led to the balcony. Pelonia, she called in a soft voice.

A faint snort came from below, then a whoosh and pulse of large wings beating. The ebony pegasus circled the pine, then landed on the balcony with incredible grace for such an imposing beast. Pelonia bowed, exposing a basket nestled between her dark-tipped wings. Just big enough to carry a Corvid infant.

Tansy brought Bray out to place him in the basket, but Layla stepped in front of her. Her mother’s eyes glossed with unshed tears. Her voice trembled. Please, let me do this for you.

Layla took the bundled infant. It must be me, Mother.

With a whisper of his name and one last gentle kiss, she secured Bray in the basket. Pelonia stood, and Layla cupped her soft muzzle and stared into her large brown eyes. Keep him safe.

The mare bobbed her head once, then lifted her wings, her small passenger hidden from sight. Tansy guided Layla back into the room as Pelonia beat her wings downward and soared into the sky. A guard of ravens flanked the pegasus, and Layla watched until they disappeared amongst the clouds.

Rya.

Layla loosened the travel cloak and slipped the lavender ribbon from Rya’s hair—a keepsake. Rya will go to the… Gray, she said to the waiting ravens.

Ping’s face turned apoplectic. No! Layla, please consider the implications. The Gray… there’s no coming back from the Gray. The humans—

I know the risks, Ping.

And you’re willing to place them on your children's heads?

Layla dropped her gaze. My decisions appear harsh. I know. But, I assure you, my children will be safe. The secret of the Horns will be safe.

Damn the Horns!

Layla hung her head. Yes, damn the Horns.

Layla secured the cloak once more and addressed the ravens in as strong a voice as she could muster. To the Gray.

As with Vale, the ravens each lifted a corner of the travel cloak and flew. Layla clutched Rya’s hair ribbon to her heart and watched the last of her children disappear.

And birds were human, and humans were birds. Terrified and new, they took to the sky. Instinct overcame fear, and they soared. For there was an honesty in their wings.

- from the Book of Transformation

RYA

Upper Park Side, Gray City

Rya spilled out onto the busy streets of Gray City, the familiar snap of gargoyle wings seven stories up signaling her guardian’s ascent into the sky. She waved to Fallon as he flew overhead to carry out his morning patrol, his shadow stretching far ahead as she crossed the street. On the chance that her mother was watching from their apartment window, she walked another block toward the Knowledge Center, and once out of sight, turned the corner toward Sky Bridge.

She didn’t enjoy lying to her mother. She wouldn’t even call it a lie. More of an omission. She was planning to meet her friend, Cass, at the Knowledge Center, and she’d pick up her brother from defense class afterward—she simply hadn’t mentioned a quick stop at Sky Bridge first.

Rya headed down the block leading to the Slip River, crossing several intersections before reaching the entrance to the tramway that ran beneath the bridge from the city to Smoke Island. She hopped onto the first step of the zig-zagging staircase and began the eighteen-story climb to the scenic walking bridge above. She encountered only two people on the stairs—almost everyone used the lift.

The bridge was busy with many taking advantage of the pleasant weekend morning. It trembled as the cables rolled and pulled trams from one end to the other. Rya was fortunate to find an empty balcony with a southern view. Clouds hovered above the center tower of the bridge, reassuring sapphire light shining from the X-shaped Hexometer set into its turret. Rya dropped her satchel on the wooden bench near the railing and sat, catching her breath after the long climb. To her right, misty tendrils of fog flirted with the magnificent steel spires of the tallest buildings in Gray City while bright red trolley-cars belched steam into the air. Beneath her, the river churned and rolled past the edge of the city toward Blue Point Island. Magic might not exist in the Gray like it did in Alternia’s other territories, but to Rya, the weave of stone and steel and constant motion was magical, nonetheless.

A stiff wind kicked up, snatching strands of Rya’s hair from the bun atop her head. She yanked her short black boots off and replaced them with her scuffed pointe shoes. This pair had seen their last twirl on the stage, but they’d work for a turn on the bridge. With practiced fingers, she wrapped and secured the ribbons around her ankles, and after using the back of the bench to stretch and loosen her muscles, assumed first position. Rya lifted her arms into a soft circle.

Inside her mind, piano notes redolent of sunshine and birdsong guided her as she swept her foot forward. One movement followed another with precision and grace, the varnished wood flooring smooth beneath her feet. The world disappeared. There was only the dance. Rya spun a series of pirouettes as the song in her head and the wind on the bridge crescendoed. Faster. Faster. She launched into a grand jeté, the wind rushing to fill the space beneath her, and imagined flying over the railings and beyond.

Her heart bloomed.

She focused on balancing her movements against a strengthening breeze. Her shadow grew from a faint blur to the distinct form of a ballerina. A brief glance skyward revealed persistent rays of sunlight pressing through a threadbare tear in the cloud cover, offering a rare glimpse of blue sky. Rya halted her dance, giving in to the allure of light and warmth. She dropped to the ground near the railing, shoving her legs through the bottom rung so they dangled over the river. Definitely not a mother-approved move.

Rya tilted her head backward, eyes tearing up against the unaccustomed brightness, and inhaled the warm, almost-summer air. Above her, the slight tear fissured, exposing a rivulet of intense blue. So vivid. So vibrant. So not gray. Most of the time, dark-bottomed clouds spanned the sky, filtering the sun, so by the time it reached the streets it was nothing but a worn-out shine. The constant cloud cover formed the lowest layer of the Cap, a protective barrier between Gray City and the rest of Alternia. The Cap had many faces, but only one function—to keep magic out of the Gray.

This rare chip of blue sky served as a reminder that other realms existed where the sun shone unimpeded by clouds. Places where a winged race of humans existed, where streets and the people who walked on them were made of gold, where merrow swam a vast and incredible ocean. Where magic bloomed.

Tufts of cloud whisked away as though plucked by a giant hand. Rya framed the blue with her hands, blotting out the clouds, trying to envision the entire sky Cap-free. It lasted only moments before puffy tendrils swirled in to reclaim their rightful place. She squinted into the space between the clouds. Something flew into the gap and froze. At first she thought it was a gargoyle, but the wings were all wrong, softer angles and… feathers. A bird then, hanging in the sky, white wings spread. No—not a bird.

Impossible, Rya whispered.

She scrambled to her feet and gaped at the winged man suspended in blue. Avian. What was an Avian doing near the Gray? Human hybrid bird species avoided the Gray, the lack of magic a threat to their wings. The man-bird waved his arms as though he were trying to communicate. Rya searched the bridge for whoever the Avian was signaling, but the closest person was a distracted mother trying to calm her fussy baby. A dot materialized before the Avian, growing larger as it fell. It soon resolved into a bird, a pigeon like the ones that lined the rooftops and nested in the stone structures throughout the city. The pigeon hurtled through the air at a precarious speed. Rya stepped aside as the harried bird flew past her and landed on the bench where it teetered and fell over. She approached the pigeon, noticing a tiny scroll tied to its leg. Is that for me?

It peered at her with a frantic black eye. You poor thing. She touched its soft feathers, then stroked its heaving chest. The beleaguered pigeon leaped to its feet and pecked her finger.

Rya snatched her hand back. Ouch!

The pigeon took several hurried steps, its head tilting left then right as it assessed her, and stuck the leg with the scroll tied to it towards her. Rya peeked over her shoulder—the man-bird waved his arms more frantically. The bird pecked her hand again.

Stop it!

The bird thrust its leg out again and squawked.

All right, no need to be so mean about it. Rya untied the scroll from the bird, and the pigeon immediately returned to the sky. She unfurled the paper.

Rya—You must leave the Gray before it’s too late. Meet me at midnight. Top of Empire—Zephyr

Rya spun around, her gaze snapping back to the sky. While she’d been reading, mist had flooded in and stitched up the blue scar until there was no telling it had ever been. Only the faintest outline of the Avian remained. Then it, too, vanished with the blue.

The trek from Sky Bridge to the Knowledge Center was carried out by rote memory and a few well-timed shouts that kept Rya from being flattened by at least two carriages. The last save came from the synchronous trolley bell and a not-so-gentle yank courtesy of a gentleman in a stovepipe hat and dark, round glasses. She stumbled back to the curb with barely a breath between herself and the cherry-red steel car as it steamed past her.

Mind your step now, young lady, her rescuer said in a trembling voice. Heat flashed into Rya’s cheeks as she mumbled a thank you before dodging across the street. She made it two more blocks without incident before picking up the midtown trolley. Rya dropped into an empty seat in the rear of the car and unrolled the Avian’s note, flattening it against her thigh. The words, too late, jumped out at her and formed a nervous pit in her stomach. The real kicker, though, was her name at the top of the note. Her name.

The trolley rolled to a stop, and Rya stood with the other passengers to disembark. She stepped onto the sidewalk, her attention drawn to the towering form of the Empire building further downtown. Meet me at midnight.

Cass’s face popped-up before her, blocking the tower from view. You’re late.

Rya leaped backward. Cass!

Her friend smirked. Did you go to Sky Bridge again?

Yes, sorry. I guess I lost track of time.

Somewhat dazed, Rya followed Cass to the granite steps that led to the Knowledge Center. The silver lion atop the guard’s pedestal at the base of the stairs sat in majestic repose, neck creaking as it surveyed approaching visitors with glowing sapphire Hexo eyes.

Someone needs an oil change, Cass said, as they dashed up the steps.

They came to a standstill behind a growing crowd.

And Rufus needs reprogramming, Rya said. He’s been doing that for days now.

A second lion had left its guard post and paced, gears whirring and metal clanking, in front of the massive entrance. It shook its head, the petals that made up its metal mane clacking against one another like coins falling into a pile. Rya and Cass edged forward and waited for their moment to slip past the rogue beast. Steel paws clanked upon stone as Rufus made a slow turn before the main door. Two young boys ran in front of him and rushed up the steps, laughing as the lion roared his disapproval. The girls took advantage of the distraction and slipped behind Rufus, dodging the steel whip of his tail as it slashed from side to side.

Once inside, Cass flattened herself against a marble wall. Your mother should be more concerned about your visiting the Knowledge Center than Sky Bridge.

Definitely more dangerous, Rya said. The two friends crossed the cavernous entry hall. Colorful murals depicting the story of the Great Transformation decorated six large panels set into the walls. Her gaze always snagged on the first painting of the young princess walking into the Forest of Horns, the coveted Star Crown dangling from her fingertips. A guard, sword in hand, accompanied her. She’d found the story of the lost princess and the Star Crown fascinating ever since she was a little girl pining over faery tales at Miss Tuttlefield’s Children’s Home.

Rya glanced at Cass. I have to tell you something.

Her friend’s golden brown eyes sparkled. Ooh, is it about Lachlan and Magda? I heard they split up.

Not surprised. But, no, it’s not about them. It’s much more interesting.

She grabbed Cass’s hand and towed her past rooms that held vast dioramas of worlds many Gray City residents would never view outside of the Knowledge Center’s walls.

Ry, you’re being mysterious. Where are we going?

We’re almost there. Rya said as she steered them past the exhibits for the Blue and Red territories. When they bypassed the White exhibit, Cass protested further. Hey, I need to go there!

But Rya veered into a hallway and down a grand staircase that took them several stories below ground. As they descended, the Green rose around them, a lush forest on their left, a village of towering white pine homes to their right—though impressive, they were still far shorter than the real tree homes of the Avians—and a mound of grass that took on the form of a sleeping woman straight ahead, one eye opening to peek at them as they stepped off the staircase. Above them, the ceiling mimicked a brilliant blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Out of all the displays, Rya loved the Green’s abundance of trees and unfettered sky the most.

Cass yanked her hand free from Rya’s grip. What are we doing in the Green?

Rya wandered further into the life-sized display. I want to show you something.

"You said you had to tell me something."

I do. I just… here!

They halted in front of a line-up of a winged hybrid species, known as Avians, that existed in the Green. Humans with wings of brilliant red and blue, muted gray, bright white, and midnight black—the largest of the black-winged birds being the Corvid—all recreated for the inspection and edification of the people of Gray City. She’d always admired the lithe forms of the bird people, strong and sculpted, much like that of a ballet dancer. Rya pointed at the more elegant, white-winged specimen. I saw one of them today. On Sky Bridge.

Cass’s eyes widened more than should be possible. You what?!

Several heads turned their way. Rya tugged Cass into the shelter of a towering fake white pine. Shhhh.

Cass lowered her voice. "You saw one of those, one of those… I don’t even know what that one’s called."

Rya peeked over Cass at the signs above each display. It’s a Messenger. Some kind of pigeon-hybrid.

Out of all the Avians, you get visited by a pigeon?

"A messenger." Rya stressed the word—it took another moment for her meaning to sink in.

Wait, are you saying an Avian gave you a message?

Promise you won’t tell anyone.

Oh my Greens, will you tell me already?

Rya reached into her ballet bag and rummaged for her sewing kit, plucking the scroll she’d stuffed inside the metal box. Cass snatched it and unfurled the paper, eyes scanning the brief note in an instant. Her soft brown complexion turned ashen. She looked up from the note, her hazel-eyed gaze fixed on Rya. What does ‘before it’s too late’ mean?

I have no idea. Are Avians known for being dramatic?

Cass skimmed the note again. Maybe something will happen in the city.

Right, and I’m the one the outside world contacts when Gray City is in trouble.

What about the Ice Maidens? They were attacked last week. And yesterday the Herkimer diamond caves were raided.

Sure, but those happened in the White and the Green territories. All the more reason to stay where it’s safe. Here. In the Gray.

Rya reached for the note. Cass hesitated before depositing it in her open hand. You’re not going to meet him, are you?

Of course not. She was curious, though. Why would an Avian want to meet with her?

He knows your name, Cass said. How’s that possible?

Rya shrugged, trying hard to be nonchalant, but she imagined her face looked as anxious as her friend’s.

You need to tell your parents.

Rya recoiled. I can’t do that. I’ll never dance on Sky Bridge again.

Cass raised her eyebrows. That’s what’s important right now?

Rya snagged her lower lip with her teeth and said nothing.

At least tell Fallon, Cass said.

I will, Rya said a bit too fast. She ignored Cass’s arched eyebrow.

Cass huffed. I have to get some information on dangerous creatures in the White for my father’s upcoming trip.

Go. I’ll wander around here for a bit.

Can I trust you not to run off with pigeon-man?

Rya laughed. Trust me.

Cass spun on her heels. I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes.

Once Cass left for the White Exhibit Hall, Rya roamed the Green’s replicated forests and villages. She’d first visited the Knowledge Center after her adoption when she was six-years-old. She’d been so proud to walk beneath the massive stone arches clutching tight the hand of the man she now called Father. Luke Mackey’s smile had been as wide as her own as he’d introduced his new daughter to his colleagues. In her, he’d fostered a thirst for knowledge—she was the first to rush to his office to find out what he’d brought back from the Green and had spent many hours among the exhibits.

She found the other territories fascinating, a world beyond. But, as much as she would love to visit them in person, the threat of magic held her back. There were stories of those who’d ventured beyond the Cap’s protective charm only to grow bat wings or transform into some other magical creature, their bloodline transformed by the silver-threaded curse centuries back. It was a risk and, not knowing her own origins, one she was unwilling to take.

Even if a winged Messenger told her she must leave.

Her meandering had brought her right back to the Avians. Her gaze fixed on the white-winged Messenger, the scroll still clutched in her hand. Why would an Avian care if she stayed in the Gray? She didn’t even know anyone outside the city. There was no way she was leaving.

She stepped past the Messenger and circled a Corvid family—mother, father, three small children, one so young he’d yet to grow wings. She’d often wondered what it might be like having wings, though she already knew what it was