Author's Note

Welcome back! My goodness time has flown since A Gift Of Wings concluded, time I needed to get my life settled again. But time also spent writing this story out in full, already entirely beta-read by the amazing VigoGrimborne! You'll find him and his works in my Favourites, if for some strange reason you still haven't read them.

Now, I am not normally disposed to opening a story with an Author's Note, but I feel I need to preface this by saying that if you haven't read A Gift Of Wings, you need to do that first. Because despite being a prequel, this mystery drama is going to make little enough sense with that background, let alone without it. Yes, I realise it's nine hundred thousand words long, get to it! For everyone else, please enjoy the history and lore of this world while you try to figure out what the Hel's going on.


An instinctive gasp. Flinching from strange sensations. A sense of… nothingness, all around, so imposing and daunting. Sounds so crisp and clear, but… comforting. An oasis of familiarity among the flood of information.

Comfort. Always searching for it, striving for it. Learning how to achieve it. Food. Shelter. Safety. Necessary things.

Two presences provided these necessities. Large and dark, with bright green eyes. Sometimes also with many small white things – the appearance of those almost always took away her comfort, but she gradually learned how to avoid them.

She was provided for. But that wasn't enough. Boredom, a curious feeling. A need to find her own comfort. A need to move and stretch. A need to explore, learn, and understand. Using sharp claws to climb up to a high place for a nap. Not as comfortable as when she was placed in the soft and warm places, but somehow more satisfying.

The two presences gradually became smaller. Everything did. Or rather, she grew. She began to understand the world, and the different things in it. Her sire and dam. They did not smell the same, respond in the same ways, or do all the same things, but they were the same. The three of them lived in their den, a dark and safe little cave that was never too warm or too cold. All around the den, many trees reached high up from the uneven and rocky ground.

A nearby tree grew higher than the ones beside it, which she liked to climb to spread her wings and take flight, once she knew how. Her sire and dam were always nearby, but as she explored further and further, they watched from further away. That was fine, she no longer needed them as much as she once had.


Boredom was a more and more prevalent discomfort as time wore on, further agitated by her frustration with being unable to do some things herself. She wanted to catch her own food, maybe surprise her sire by sharing what she'd caught; she didn't know how he'd respond, and wondered about it often. But prey always did its best to not get caught, and was very good at it, even if her sire and dam had no trouble hunting.

Bored and hungry at once was somehow much worse than their combined discomfort, each escalating the other to make her agitated and restless. She growled to herself, giving up the game as her sire wandered beneath the tree she was hiding in with no idea she was perched among its many thick branches. He looked up, spotted her, and deftly climbed up after her, so she leapt out and glided to the ground, not wanting to be thrown off. He followed, even bounding after her once they had landed, and she spun and growled at him; this wasn't what she wanted to do! He could stay here while she tried hunting, so she knew where to return when she caught something… or maybe to have him hunt for her if she needed it.

He dutifully sat on his haunches, tilting his head at her, and she snorted as she trotted away between the trees. She knew a place where small prey liked to frequent, a good place for her to try hunting without her sire or dam to distract her, and made her way to the drinking water from where she knew how to get everywhere.

Strangely, her hunger wasn't so uncomfortable when she was hunting, and with something to do, she no longer felt bored. It took some time to reach the hunting place, time that passed quickly in her focus on where she was going to find prey and how she would chase it. She knew the trees there well, knew how to get around them quickly, but somehow the prey always eluded her…

She knew she was very fast, and could sometimes even outrun her sire or dam. But when she reached the big overhanging rock jutting from the ground, spotting movement between the draping plants hanging off it, she hesitated. Normally, she would run after the prey; that was how hunting worked. But she never caught anything, always tired of running before her teeth could reach it.

The prey milled about under the rock, doing whatever prey did, moving in their strange hops and flashing their tiny white tails in the air. Sometimes they would stop and look around with their long ears lifted. They looked a little like her sire had while he was looking for her. Could… the prey also be looking for her? She was fast, but she was also good at hiding.

The big rock would be a good hiding place, on top of it where the prey would not be able to see her, and she quietly made her way around to where it met the ground. She didn't hear any prey run away as she moved, not even when she walked up onto it, her claws gripping the rough stone for purchase as she climbed. Even as she made her way to the top, nothing went running off into the trees, and she could smell them below her.

Good, she was hidden. But… as she lay there, waiting, she realised that wasn't enough. She needed to catch the prey. This wouldn't work, and the rock was just steep enough that it would be difficult to turn around and go back down it without making any sound, and her sire always noticed her when she tried to fly. She would have growled angrily if she wasn't currently hiding.

Finally, she came up with a compromise. She couldn't return to her spot among the trees, so she could only chase them from here. Just creep over the edge a little… claws gripping the rough rock, where the little plants peeked out from the cracks… reaching down… and drop!

She landed heavily, the breath forced from her lungs, and immediately started hunting the prey that ran from her with high-pitched squeals ringing in her ears. One of them ran in the direction she always chased – but this time she was much closer! This time, when it ran around a big root that she jumped over, she was near enough to jump on it.

The furry prey thrashed, quickly struggling out from under her paw, so she bit it. The loud squeals still hurt her ears, and it was still trying to escape, so she kept biting and stomping on it until it stopped. Eventually it just lay there, twitching three more times before going still and silent.

She stared at it. Prey. Food. She had hunted! She eagerly wolfed the meal down and purred as her hunger abated, the same food that sire and dam sometimes brought her but so much better because she had hunted it and she was a very good hunter.

With her head proudly held high, she trotted all the way to the water and then turned around to go back to where she had hid from her sire, finding him lying on his paws and watching her emerge from the trees where she then stood proudly. She had hunted all by herself! There wasn't any left to give to him, because she had been hungry, but she had caught prey!

He tilted his head at her… Wasn't he proud? Happy? She held her head a little higher and flared her wings. Instead of being proud or happy, however, he stood and huffed for her to follow, tipping his head and turning to walk away… She growled at him, angry that he wasn't happy for her.

His eyes narrowed with another huff that meant she should follow, but she dug her claws into the ground; she didn't want to follow, she wanted him to be proud of her for hunting. He growled and huffed again, and when she still didn't follow, he stalked up to her.

She knew what was coming, baring her teeth and swatting at the paw that lashed out at her. It still knocked her over, and she snarled at him from her back – he swatted her again, somehow avoiding her teeth and claws to bop her on the head, then swiftly grabbed her by the scruff. She struggled as he carried her, tail dragging along the ground, but he didn't put her down. This wasn't what she wanted! She was so angry she never wanted to see him ever again! She would go to her dam and they would hide from him forever!

Just as soon as he put her down… Grrr…


Warm light stung her eyes, encouraging her to keep them closed despite the lingering remnants of a very unpleasant dream of falling into a river. She was comfortable, and didn't want to move… but she had already slept much, even if it didn't feel like it. If she slept any longer, she would be awake for most of the light, bored and restless while her sire and dam slept. Comfort now, or comfort later? Grrr…

She moved her dangling tail a little to shelter her face from the great fire rising in the distance, the source of the harsh light that found tiny gaps in the forest seemingly just to harass her, and yawned widely. The ground dangled above her head, motes of light flickering across it while the trees shifted and swayed in the wind. What held the ground there, she wondered? Why did it not just float away?

Another yawn forced itself through her, and she let herself slip from the branch to drop to the ground. From down here, it seemed solid and immovable, though she remembered it swaying as she stared at it from above. Perhaps, it was floating away – how would she know?

Her mind went to her rumbling stomach. Her sire or dam should have called her back by now to eat, but they hadn't. She growled as she stalked through the forest, hopping across jagged rocks and slinking through thick foliage. They had let her sleep so long, and hadn't made sure she'd eaten. Grrr, this night wasn't going to be very comfortable.

She made sure to bite back her growl as she threw her head around the entrance to their den, knowing it would only delay food and comfort – but it was empty. Grrrr… She barked angrily into the forest, then dropped heavily to her haunches and gave her wings a frustrated shake. It wasn't as if she'd gone far, she would have heard them barking for her… as long as it was loud enough to wake her.

The sounds of the wind through the trees and the twittering of little prey all gradually became louder in her ears, and unease began to sink into her stomach. She barked again, then roared as loudly as she could, her anger melting into something far more unpleasant. She didn't like this. They had never been far, never beyond hearing! She barked and howled, but there was no reply.

She couldn't see them. She couldn't hear them. Could she… feel them? Certainly not now, but could she normally? Desperation pushed her to try anyway, but there was still nothing! Just… nothing, nothing but the bright fire gradually rising into the sky.

They fed her, played with her. She could probably find enough food if she needed to, and find fun things to do herself. She didn't need them. But… they were somehow more than that to her. She didn't understand!

Her whines became harder, deepened into growls. She couldn't accept they were gone. She wouldn't! Her claws dug into the ground as she shrieked, scattering small prey from the trees and hurting her own ears, but she wasn't allowing this to-!

Compassionate, comforting croons hovered over her, and a warm snout nuzzled her head. She collapsed with a whimper, suddenly feeling dizzy and lightheaded, closing her eyes so that the spinning ground did not make her feel so unwell, but the scents and sensations surrounding her were unmistakable. She didn't even care where they had gone, only that they were back now and wouldn't ever leave again, and she sank her teeth into a nearby leg with a relieved whine. Never disappear again!

Her sire nudged her away from the leg with his snout, and she grappled his head to lick it while he snuffled her. Then her dam curled around her, and her sire chuffed and padded away, probably to find food, though she wasn't hungry anymore, her stomach still twisting uncomfortably. They were back, and that was the only thing that mattered.


The next night was the first time she saw the thing. Not with her eyes or ears, but with some strange other sense. She had no way to describe the thing, other than that it was a bit bigger than she was, and that it was there.

She peered out from under her dam's wing at the thing that was there but not there, floating just within the entrance of the den but invisible to her eyes. She chirped warily, and her sire lifted his head to look around, but just yawned and lay back down, apparently noticing nothing. Nothing changed for a long time, until the thing dissipated and was no longer there.

Many nights passed before it appeared again, when she had all but forgotten about the oddity. She was resting with her sire after a long but unsuccessful hunt of the small prey that burrowed in the ground – more for fun than anything – when she noticed it, hovering over them like the sheen on the surface of water. Curiosity, wary, she rumbled, and her sire looked up as she approached the thing… but he still didn't seem to notice it, even when she gestured at it.

That was the moment she realised she was… different. Not like the way her sire was different to her dam, but in another way.

She walked up to the thing and stood on her hindlegs to paw at it, though her paw met no resistance – the thing then floated up, out of reach, and she scurried back to her sire in case it did something else. But it didn't, just continued to exist in its unseeable, untouchable way. She grumbled to herself and nestled in between her sire's foreleg and chest, and he licked over her back with a purr; it made her feel a little better, though she remained wary.

It eventually disappeared, just as it had before, and she ventured back out of her sire's embrace to look around. Nothing seemed to be different. She snorted and growled to herself, then bounded off into the trees to look-

A playful growl from behind sent her sprinting over the rough rocks and slopes with a giddy squeal, desperately fleeing the jaws snapping shut just shy of her tail. It didn't take him long to catch her, easily flipping her onto her back to nuzzle and lick her front despite her breathless shrieks and attempts to kick him away.

No, no, no, this wasn't right! Stop! The tickling assault ceased as her sire froze, staring at her with wide eyes. Hungry, she growled at him, rolling to her paws, and he blinked and sniffed at her. Hungry…

He took a step back and tilted his head at her, then made to pick her up by her scruff – she planted her paws, no, and he wavered while she stared intently at him. Hungry. You get. He stepped back again and broke eye contact to look around with a low rumble, but she stood firm; she wanted him to leave her for a little while so she could look for the weird thing by herself.

Finally, he turned and looked away, seeming distracted as he took halting steps into the trees. She waited until she could no longer hear his paws crushing leaves and brushing stone before slumping to her haunches and panting lightly; that had been exhausting. It was easy to get him or her dam to follow and play with her when she wanted, so why had that been so difficult?

She contorted herself to claw out a leaf that had become stuck between her back-fins before giving herself a shake and setting off, returning to where she had seen the thing that her sire and dam couldn't understand. She would figure this out herself.


The seasons passed, and she continued to grow. Past the point she could be picked up by her scruff, past the point that her sire and dam tried to follow her wherever she went. She also learned that she was more like her dam than her sire, a female, though there didn't really seem to be much difference. She learned to hunt, to stalk her prey, chase it down, and tear out its throat. She learned it was easier when her sire or dam helped, but also how to hunt alone, more slowly and with more patience. She learned how to watch and observe, to know her prey so that she knew how it would react when she lunged for it.

But for all her hunting and skill, there was one prey that continued to thwart her. How did one stalk something that made no sound, had no scent, and could not be seen? How did one strike something that could not be touched? The mysterious presence returned when the leaves had fallen from the trees for the third time of her life, when her sire and dam were very interested in rolling around the den with each other. She hid in a shadow in the branches of a tree, where a stubborn curtain of vines clung to its last pale leaves, to watch the strange presence float outside her den.

It lingered for a time, and she watched it intently for where it might go. When it did move, it was straight up – stopping level to where she was hiding! She immediately leaped down from the tree, heaving her wings to soften her landing with the ground, and bolted through the forest. But as fast as she was, she could not escape it as it followed her in sudden, halting advances. Only when she scrambled up a tree and took to the air did she lose it, soaring high into the night sky to leave it behind.

When she returned later, after her chest had stopped pounding and her breaths had calmed, it was once again nowhere to be found.

Time continued to pass. The next time it appeared was long after the snow had melted and the trees once again flaunted their leaves in the wind. She had grown even more, almost as large as her dam, and was busily learning the new weapon she had developed for hunting.

Fire.

It was a difficult thing to use, but she had seen her sire destroy an entire tree with it, watched him carefully as he demonstrated what she needed to do. Maybe this new weapon would hurt the thing, if it returned, so she practised as much as she could, even pretending and visualising when she had no more fire to use.

She was dozing on a rocky outcrop at the edge of the forest when her blood suddenly rushed through her body, sensing its approach; she didn't bother opening an eye, knowing she wouldn't see it. As always, it simply floated there.

It had shown itself enough now that she knew how it behaved. It would react if she acknowledged it, so she didn't, not even moving when it arrived. It would leave before long, but she couldn't move now, not yet.

After a short time had passed, long enough that she no longer needed to force her breaths to calm, she languidly rose to her paws with a stretch and a yawn. It was time to practise her fire again. She made a show of looking around, settling on a direction out into open air… just to the side of the strange presence. As she had for countless nights now, she practised shaping her fire in her throat, firing it into the distance to see how far she could make it go, the distant explosions echoing back to her.

Her last shot went a bit differently, letting her tired neck falter as she loosed it – the volatile shot went wide, clipping the edge of the unseeable thing and detonating directly behind it with a flash of light. That had been perfect! She peered around her wing at the billowing smoke, though nothing about it seemed unusual… Not flowing around some unseeable thing, or being disrupted other than by the wind.

The presence, although it seemed unfazed, withdrew, rising a little and sliding off over the forest, faster than she could hope to follow. She slumped to her haunches, defeated. However she thought about it, she couldn't think of anything else to do. It was there, she was certain, but there was nothing she could do to it. All she could do was accept-

A wave of what she could only think of as complete and utter dread and despair suddenly washed through her, like an icy river rushing right through her body. Her paws gave out from under her, and she faintly felt her head hitting the ground, but her entire focus was on curling up within herself and clinging on so that she was not washed away with the unbearable current; it was so deep, so intense, that she was immediately convinced her very life was in danger.

She didn't know how long it lasted, but when it ended, she felt drained, as if she had been flying and running with both her sire and dam for the whole night. Still, she shakily pushed herself up to sit on her haunches, gasping and mewling with… sorrow. She didn't know why, only that it was more than she had ever felt before. Had she… angered the thing? Was this what it could do? She could feel it when it was near… so maybe it could make her feel other things too.

Just the thought of flying was daunting, but she forced strength into her legs and wings to leap into the air, shakily rising above the canopy to glide over the trees. Her wings felt like leaves fluttering on a thin branch by the time she made it to the den, but she managed to land in the tall tree outside, into which she carved long rents as she slid down to the ground.

Some of that feeling returned when she walked into the empty den, of dread, the utter, stifling sadness. She somehow just knew, just like last time, had a feeling of emptiness and absence, and collapsed right there in the entrance with an exhausted, defeated whine. Her sire and dam weren't coming back.

She was alone.


A white wall silently slid aside, and Arthur grit his teeth as he shuffled through the opening, straining to carry the dead weight slumped over his back. He had never been a particularly athletic person, not helped by being quite slim and marginally tall, but the way he lived his life by no means left him weak. Not at all like the frail, albeit very heavy, woman leaning on him for support, though she couldn't really be blamed for that.

"Nearly there," he strained, as much for his own benefit as for his burden's, while they traversed the terminal room where he now spent most of his waking hours. He knew he should have plenty of time, but a sense of urgency spurred him on nonetheless, a knowledge of how dire the consequences would be if that time were to run out.

They reached the main lab, their destination, and Arthur dragged his partner to the equipment spread along one of the walls, letting her slip from his shoulder into a large padded chair that would easily support her. He groaned and pressed his fists into his sides to stretch his back and shoulders, taking a moment to limber himself so that he could better focus on what he needed to do. Not that he needed to do much, having been prepared well in advance; they hadn't expected they would need to move this early, but in matters of life and death, preparation was a prudent precaution.

Helen murmured wordlessly, and he tightly held her hand for a moment before lifting the helmet from its mount and fitting it over her dark, matted hair, careful to ensure it was strapped on tightly and that the thick cable wasn't pulling it askew. "Almost over," he told her quietly, unsure if she could even hear him. An end to the suffering caused by her own body. He knew she had dreamed of this day for years, as far back as when she had first challenged him to make her anew. How young they had been… He glanced at the tank beside them, at the new vessel suspended in the fluid within, and despite the situation, he had to laugh under his breath. Somehow, he had only just realised that this probably wasn't what she'd had in mind; a lot of her reactions suddenly made a lot more sense to him.

Too late to back out now, and this way was better anyway, much better. He brought up a display with a wave of his hand to monitor the initialisation sequence, finding its progress within expectations, and let his gaze drift over his work. Two decades of research and planning, on both their parts, all coming together in this one moment.

He examined the body she would soon be departing. Attraction was something he had never particularly understood – hair, clothes, makeup, superficial things that meant nothing – but he knew for certain this was not attractive. Overweight, plagued with sores and rashes wherever her skin folded on itself, its mere appearance suggesting an entirely impractical body to live in even before considering the other issues he knew she had; not that it was her fault, but she had done herself no favours either, so he didn't pity her much. She had looked much better when they'd met, though that certainly wasn't what had drawn him to her.

A request for confirmation blinked into life in front of him, and he waved his hand through it – Helen twitched with the injection into her neck that would cease her body, smoothly and without pain. He bit his lip, uncomfortably aware of how awkward his arms and hands were with nothing for them to do, and held his breath…

The helmet and cable pulsed with light, all the way into the tank and the dark shape floating within it, and he sighed with relief. Much cleaner, much easier, than the first transfer process she had designed; it'd had all the elegance of tying a rope around the mind and yanking until it pulled free. This way was more fickle, requiring the subject to willingly let go of their body in the moment of death, but much cleaner and more efficient.

She had expressed no attachment towards her old body, agreeing he should eject it to feed the fish and return it to nature, should nature want it. The victim of an unfortunate pairing of two genetic modifications that did not mix well. Evolution took millions of years to carefully tweak its designs, while they thought they could do better in a few decades. Of course it had gone wrong.

He didn't like thinking about that, so he stepped closer to the tank and peered inside, to what would be the future. Humanity came with so much baggage to even try to work with, he had been right to start again from scratch. Not that he was conceited about it, but it was an elegant design, well-balanced, extremely capable, tough, and very practical. Designed to survive in a range of hostile environments, though he was still testing and refining some of that, and able to entirely rebuild itself in old age or injury. But most important of all, safeguards that evolution could never hope to match. Safeguards that would protect them from humanity's mistakes.

There was still the morbid matter of the body to dispose of, and he sighed as he set to work removing the helmet. At least the chair had wheels – he could agree that feeling tired wasn't so bad, but needing to do anything while tired was torture. He couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly wear themselves out, and on a daily basis at that.

But he didn't need to understand. For the most part, he was now far removed from all that, hidden away at the bottom of the ocean and beholden to nobody but himself and his responsibilities to his partner. And one day, all the people in the world would be people he could understand. He was pursuing his own dream too, after all.


The next few days were not pleasant. Not that Arthur minded the solitude, just that worry gnawed at him the entire time.

The vessel floated in the tank, unmoving and unchanging. He walked past it regularly, and couldn't help staring at it every time, wondering what was going on in the mind within, unable to do anything but guess. He felt physically ill from the worry, unable to focus, barely able to even eat. What if something had gone wrong? What if they'd made a mistake? She may never wake, and he wouldn't know until he gave up.

But a mind would take time to adjust to a new body. While the structure of the brain was similar enough, they had completely redesigned instincts and other base functions. Not only did she need to settle in, but she also had to figure out the new inputs and outputs, the body itself. The sensory deprivation provided by the tank, immersing her in tepid water, should make the process a little less overwhelming, allowing her to figure it out in her own time.

If only that came with a progress bar. He sighed to himself, resisting the urge to tap on the glass, and shuffled off to his room for his own form of sensory deprivation – cool air and a heavy blanket usually helped ease his nerves, at least a little.

After another restless night of wanting to check on her every ten minutes to see if something had changed, he eventually knew he wasn't getting back to sleep. His monitors reported he'd got three hours, which was an improvement. Figuring he might as well go back to staring aimlessly at his designs, he climbed out of bed with a yawn, and after changing into some fresh clothes he stumbled through the small facility-

And startled at seeing the bright green eyes staring out from within the tank. He wasn't overwhelmed with relief as expected – nausea was still the predominant feeling – but he rushed over and gently put a hand against the glass, peering inside. A fierce predator stared back at him, black as night, streamlined and sleek.

The only reaction was her pupils dilating, at which he laughed giddily. A reflex, when familiar and trusting of someone, both as nonverbal communication and to widen their field of view to watch for threats. She recognised him, she was okay. But he was also excited to see his design in action. The eyes in particular were very different, using polarised lenses to adapt to bright light and… In fact, he gave Helen a smile before heading to the main terminal to go over those designs again. He already knew them inside out, but some comfortable familiarity would hopefully help his stomach settle.


Helen awoke, finding she had been moved from the tank to a large bed that she didn't recognise.

She didn't recognise much at all, to be fair. Her new senses were all… just so different. She couldn't recognise anything she was hearing, sound still just an incomprehensible pressure in her ears, she was still figuring out her weird eyes and how her field of vision was sometimes wider or narrower, and she didn't know what to make of all the smells. Touch was also strange in that it felt dull, which was to be expected with scales instead of skin.

But perhaps the biggest difference was the pain, the sheer lack of it. Was this… what it was like to be normal? She arched her back and stretched out over the bed, revelling in just moving, relishing the flexibility of her body even despite the current awkwardness of using it – she startled at a strong sensation in her throat, a deep vibration. Had… she just purred? Arthur hadn't mentioned that. How many other… animalisms had he programmed into her? Grrr… He wouldn't have thought twice about it, wouldn't even know what to mention if she asked. He was somewhat infuriating in that regard.

But… It had worked. All their research and toil had paid off. They were far from done, and this body itself was only temporary while they refined the final design, but this had been the biggest step to take. To become something other than human.

Her sensitive ears vaguely picked up an audible growl, this one from further down, bringing her attention to a familiar sensation – hunger. Hopefully Arthur would check on her soon and realise, because her entire body was still just too foreign to even consider somehow communicating that need, let alone walking anywhere.

…Well, there was something to be said for motivation.