Lana closed her eyes as she flew. It was one of her favorite things to do, flying without sight. It allowed her other senses to take control. She could hear the rush of the wind as it whipped past her ears. She could smell the coming rain in the air, a dampness that always excited her, as she loved the raw power of a good storm. When she opened her mouth to give a shrill cry of happiness, she could almost taste the electricity in the air. And as she flew with her eyes closed, she was free to savor the feel of the breeze on her soft feathers. Her talons clenched and unclenched freely, and her tail fluttered without restraint behind her. This was what made her happiest - riding on the wind, free of trouble or worry. Nothing could hurt her here, among the clouds.
It was when Lana opened her eyes that reality came crashing back to her. Below her, her kingdom’s rolling fields seemed endless, stretching on for miles and miles. They were a blur, but no matter how quickly she flew, she was unable to hide the fact that there was something wrong with them. The fields were bare. Where tall corn stalks and lush green beens had once flourished, there was nothing but hard, broken ground. The remains of small houses and wooden farming equipment lay in piles of black ash, which had ceased its smoldering weeks ago. The sheer power and devastation of the enemy’s fire could be seen everywhere. Now the sound that spilled from Lana’s beak was not one of joy, but sheer anguish. No matter how often she flew, the sight of her kingdom in ruins always sent a new wave of anger, sadness, and frustration washing over her.
This war was by no means a new one. It had been going on for generations. Whenever the girl had asked why they were at war at all, she had been told she would understand when she was older. Now she was older, and she still did not understand. From a young age, she had been force-fed the notion that the Dracan people were the enemy. They were cruel, terrible monsters, who had somehow wronged her kind. But how? No one seemed to know anymore. It had been too long. The war was now merely a matter of principle than anything else. What was being achieved? Surely nothing that was worth the many, many lives that had been lost to the violence and subsequent starvation. The vast majority of her kingdom’s people now hid within the palace walls. Homes and fields had been abandoned. Space within the palace was scarce, and food was even scarcer. Life was unbearable for everyone. But why?
With a sudden burst of her powerful wings, Lana flew in a wide arch, turning around to head back home.
“Are you alright, miss?”
Lana did not turn away from the window that she peered out of. From her third-floor bedroom, she could still see the barren wasteland that surrounded the castle. The scene within the walls was just as heart-wrenching, as handfuls of dirty, starved Gryphos mill about weakly. Haphazard shelters have been constructed in nearly every corner of the courtyard. Lana closed her eyes, took a shaking breath, then answered, “no, I am far from alright.” She opened her eyes and shook her head, her long snow-white hair falling in her face. She made no move to brush it aside. “How could anyone be alright with our world the way it is?”
The man who stood in the doorway, one of her father’s most trusted advisors, chuckled. If he had picked up on the sharp bitterness in her voice, he did not make it known. “Do not worry yourself, your majesty. We will win this war yet. We are getting closer.”
This time, the princess spun around. Her blue eyes blazed with a terrifying fire, and the grown man took a startled step back. “Is that what your father told you? And what his father told him? That we are ‘getting closer?’ How long have we been ‘getting closer?’ How much longer will we be ‘getting closer?’” By this time, the young woman was nearly growling. “I certainly hope that you’re not feeding my people these lies.”
The man simply stared, wide-eyed, for a few seconds. She had rendered him speechless. Finally, “what could have possibly led to such an outburst? Are you not well? Perhaps I should speak to your father about this.”
Lana gave a dark laugh. “And you fear I am not well? He is the ill one! Ever since my mother died. I don’t think he even knows what goes on around him these days. He is not fit to lead anymore, let alone give me life advice.”
“Are you saying that you could do a better job of leading?” He demanded.
“Yes,” she shot back, “I suppose I am!”
With a disgusted grunt, the man turned on his heel and stomped away, slamming her bedroom door behind him. Now alone, Lana turned back to the window. The harsh reality stared back at her. She held her breath for a moment, then let it go with a choked sob. Her uncharacteristic outburst had drained her, but it was a long-time coming. Something needed to change. If no one else would do it, she would have to. Slumping down onto the edge of her bed, she dropped her head in her hands.
