a silent film he'd watched a thousand times before
Marcus stood there, taller than he had been minutes ago. His chest still heaved from the flight, his mind catching up to what his body had become. Frey’s words landed with weight, and he swallowed hard, gaze flicking from the herald to the glittering expanse of the Sea of Glass.
Touched by nature. Cursed by magic. Both truths hummed in him now, neither feeling like a burden in this moment. He wanted to thank them, to speak something worthy of the gift, but all that came out was a quiet, “I’ll use it well.”
When Frey sat, the casual grace of it felt almost unreal after what had just transpired. Marcus hesitated, then gave a small nod, understanding the dismissal. He stepped back, letting the wind bite at his new height, his new strength.
Turning from the shrine, Marcus let his eyes lock on his father’s, and his heart lurched with the way he didn’t have to look up to the demigod. Noah’s eyes swept over him—older now, different—but there was no mistaking the glint of pride there. The pull of the sky thrummed in Marcus’s bones, and when Noah’s brow lifted in silent question, he didn’t need words. It’ll be cold in those clothes Noah murmured, and that was all Marcus needed.
The shift came as easily as breathing this time—bones hollowing, feathers spilling over skin—until the white-tailed eagle stood where Marcus had been. Beside him, Noah took his own shift as a griffin.
With a single beat, they rose together, climbing into the endless winter sky.
FIN
Touched by nature. Cursed by magic. Both truths hummed in him now, neither feeling like a burden in this moment. He wanted to thank them, to speak something worthy of the gift, but all that came out was a quiet, “I’ll use it well.”
When Frey sat, the casual grace of it felt almost unreal after what had just transpired. Marcus hesitated, then gave a small nod, understanding the dismissal. He stepped back, letting the wind bite at his new height, his new strength.
Turning from the shrine, Marcus let his eyes lock on his father’s, and his heart lurched with the way he didn’t have to look up to the demigod. Noah’s eyes swept over him—older now, different—but there was no mistaking the glint of pride there. The pull of the sky thrummed in Marcus’s bones, and when Noah’s brow lifted in silent question, he didn’t need words. It’ll be cold in those clothes Noah murmured, and that was all Marcus needed.
The shift came as easily as breathing this time—bones hollowing, feathers spilling over skin—until the white-tailed eagle stood where Marcus had been. Beside him, Noah took his own shift as a griffin.
With a single beat, they rose together, climbing into the endless winter sky.
FIN
marcus olson
