How hard do you look at what you see? Do you really see what's there, or what you're supposed to?
Look at this scene, for example. Isn't it nice? It's a city, just like any other, but the people are all peaceful and happy. It's in the top of a high cliff, overlooking the sea. The architecture of the tall buildings is spectacular, and the setting sun reflects off the polished surfaces. It looks like the entire city is on fire.
Beautiful, isn't it? No slums, no homeless, everyone is happy. The government for this city-state is certainly a good one, it seems.
After all, governments are supposed to deal with everything that's not happy, aren't they?
You're not looking close enough.
Focus on that window. That one over there, the one on the top floor of the highest apartment building. Good.
Do you see the girl standing in it? She's the one with the hair filled with the sunset, eyes brimming with anger, loss and anguish. Maybe sixteen, far too young for such old eyes. See her step up on the edge. She looks like she's about to jump, doesn't she?
Screams. That's all Lina remembered of her friends, her parents, her sister. Just the screams of death filling every available space in the air around her. And the sickened moans of the killers.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's orders, I'm sorry..." Lina turned around to see a young man of maybe sixteen, staring at another fallen, winged form. He was on his knees, gasping and shuddering, gazing at the vision of grace and freedom he had cut down with the bloodstained sword flung in the dirt.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me..."
Lina's sister glared at him with unseeing eyes.
"You took a life, boy. Now save one." The youth turned his horrified gaze to the ten year old areborne that was Lina. The sunrise-haired child shrunk back from his gaze, her arms tightening around the winged horse doll she held cradled in their embrace. She didn't know what was happening. How could she? How could a naïve child borne from an equally naïve race ever understand the distrust and jealousy that was the human race? That the humans, envious of the freedom of the skies, had dubbed their god the only one allowed to fly? That the government had announced hatred and corruption beneath the angelic veneer of beauty?
A child could never understand.
A child could never agree.
A child could never forget.
Zelgadis had swept her up in his ivory arms, placed her gently in the top of his pack, and had ridden back to his comrades, finished already with the massacre.
And they went home and celebrated.
Lina had stared from inside the oiled leather of the backpack as Zelgadis excused himself early from the festivities and went home.
A twelve year old girl stared out the window at the sky, eyes rolled up as far as they would go. A blue haired youth of perhaps eighteen drags her away as the troops march by the door, holding her as she cries tears filled with loss. She shakes her fiery mane angrily, running back to the window and gazing at the birds let loose by the guards.
They fly up to the sky, wings unused to flying, but full of the joy of flight. The girl smiles and watches, pure joy written across her face, Before the youth can pull her back from the sight, thirty-eight shots are sent into the air.
Thirty-eight birds fall to the ground amidst the cheering of the crowd.
The child screams and falls to the floor, eyes wide, hands gripping the carpet as the youth shields her from the spectacle.
But the sight is burned into her mind.
A thirteenth birthday party for two. A redheaded child is brought into a room, and the blindfold is taken from her face. She squeals with delight as she runs to the window.
The top floor of the tallest apartment building in the city. Zelgadis has bedecked in blue and white, sky-coloured curtains draping around huge windows, skylights allowing pure sunshine to pour unhindered into the airy room. Lina smiles a real smile, her first in three years, and hugs her protector. He smiles too, not telling her how much it cost, not telling her how he nearly had to sell himself to the army again to pay for it. Her smile is enough.
Nothing will repay for the life he took. But maybe it will be forgiven if he can make one child's a little more bearable.
He smiles as he sees her dance through the apartment.
Fifteen. Lina stared out the window again, gazing at the single bird that she let loose from her window. It's so happy, unhindered. It flies, and then --
Shrieking alarms slice through the air, lights flash everywhere, and Lina hears gunshots. Hundreds of gunshots, and the bloody mess plummets from the sky and to the harsh ground below. The girl no longer cries, no longer falls to the floor. She is silent as she hears the unspoken law yet again.
Freedom is death. To fly is death. To be happy is punishable by a plummet to hell.
Lina turns from the window and falls into bed. She never smiles anymore, and Zelgadis can't do anything else to bring her closer to the sky.
Zelgadis' twenty-second birthday. Lina has worked hard to make a cake for him, but her knowledge of the kitchen being limited to canned goods has reduced the confection to a sloppy mess. She sighs, her flour covered arms circling her legs in a look of pure depression.
Zelgadis smiles at her from over the counter. She looks at his face, his mouth full of what could charitably be called a birthday cake, and she smiles at the only light in her world of darkness. He reaches down and holds her as she sighs, trying to give her as much strength as he can. He knows anyone with less fire in them would have gone insane long ago, but everyone runs out of flame eventually.
What will he do without his only reason to live?
Zelgadis pushes that thought to the back of his mind and ignores it. She'll pull through. She has to. They're pushing a bill for freedom of flight again. Maybe she'll be able to fly again.
Maybe he can watch her.
Lina stares at Zelgadis as he gives her the news. There is no expression on her face, only the dead look of lost hope. He closes his eyes and explains the rest of the new bill, trying not to picture her gaze.
Not only can no one fly, but they would soon be reduced to ground level. No one was allowed anywhere near the sky anymore at all. Light blue hues were even banned.
Lina goes straight to bed, and Zelgadis can only cry in silence for the child with dead eyes.
Lina stares at the sky, opening her window on the last night near the stars. She woke early -- Zelgadis is still asleep. The fire-tressed child steps onto the sill, eyes filled with longing. She smiles. She jumps.
She has a brief moment of joy, flying as high as she can, before the alarms shriek in her ears. She ignores them, reaching to touch the sky. She hears a scream of loss dully from her apartment, but the only thing in her world in the rising sun, the last traces of stars, and unbelievable, breath-taking joy of flight.
Pain lances through her body, but she doesn't notice. All she knows is the sky...
Zelgadis watches as she child he thought to save, the girl he grew to love and cherish, falls from the sky to the cold ground below amidst the murmurs of "I told you she was different" and "If she had the sense to stay hidden, no one would have known." from the windows of the neighbors.
But she's smiling.
The blue haired youth steps onto the windowsill, watching only the stars, his breathing short and erratic.
He closes his eyes.
And steps off.