The Veiled Border
The last light of day bled amber across the spires of the Light Palace when Karim slipped through the narrow gap behind the aviary, wings folded tight against his spine so the sentries patrolling the outer wall would mistake him for nothing more than a shadow cast by the drifting clouds. His heart hammered a reckless rhythm against his ribs, half terror, half thrill, the same feeling that had governed him every dusk for the better part of a year now. He pressed himself against the cool marble, counting the footsteps of the guard captain as they faded down the colonnade, and when silence finally settled, he ran.
The palace grounds sloped downward toward the tree line, gardens giving way to wild grass, wild grass giving way to the first dark trunks of the Silver Wood. Karim did not wait for full cover before he launched himself skyward. He never could. The moment his feet left the earth and his wings caught the evening wind, something in his chest unclenched, as though he had been holding his breath since the last time he flew this way and had only now remembered how to breathe.
He kept low, skimming just above the silver-barked canopy, close enough that the leaves shivered…
