Novel & Cerita Trail Of Broken Wings

They did not yet understand that once fault lines appeared, the ground never returned to what it had been. I stood at the window long after the lights dimmed, watching Ravenwood change in quiet, irreversible ways. Whatever came next would not be decided in a single moment or decree. It would be shaped by these cracks, by who stepped across them, and by who refused. They were shifting. And I would be ready when they finally broke.

Something is breaking. Something she could no longer outrun.

My maneuvering ability was crumbling fast. The buzzing returned. The drones—the ones the commander had sent over Kain’s fallen men—had found us. My wound, exposed without the wet cloth, now gave off a clear heat signature. We were no longer safe in the air. “I have to land,” I growled, pressing Sadira’s face to my neck. “Hide.” Barely a thousand meters from the Broken Cross, the mountainside dropped sharply into a deep, black gorge. At that point the storm wind tore apart my wings. I couldn’t go on. Leaving the ridge was the only option.

Lyra stepped forward, breathless. “Seren?” The woman’s eyes narrowed. And then— The tree behind her exploded. Darkness erupted from the crater, a wave of energy crashing over them. Wolves howled in agony. Killian shielded Lyra. Elias screamed as shadows tore at his cloak. Lucien’s voice echoed across the valley. “Too late, sister. The seal is already broken.”

With nowhere to direct his rage, Dylan kicked the shelf in the corner over. He scanned the empty quarter as a sense of dread overtook him. “Sarah… “I hope she isn’t trying to do anything drastic…” Dylan smashed the window. The broken shards flew everywhere, cutting his arm. The sharp pang reminded him of Sarah’s scarred body. By the looks of the injuries, she must be hurting. He could not fathom the extent of Sarah’s suffering. She survived five years on a remote island, only to be reduced to a servant upon her return.

The moment the glass shattered, the night wind rushed in. Without a second of hesitation, I closed my eyes and leaped. In that moment, I felt like a bird with broken wings, finally flying out of this cage named "Love." Thud! Agonizing pain instantly swept through my body. The sound of bones snapping was clearly audible. I lay on the cold stone pavement, my mouth filled with the taste of blood. But I smiled. Broken and covered in wounds, dragging a crippled leg, I crawled out of hell. This time, no one could stop me on my road to a new life.

“Ryder, you have to fly! Fly higher, you’re going to hit the ground!” Like waking from a dream, my breath hitched when I was finally seeing what was really in front of me again. I had no time to correct my position. All I could do was tuck my wings around my body and roll with the impact. Dust billowed into the air when my large frame made contact with hard earth. Trees and branches broke beneath me but did nothing to slow my pace as I continued to roll. My wings tore and there was no doubt some of my scales had peeled off with every impact of the unforgiving earth.

Mia had learned that success was rarely quiet. It arrived with applause and opportunity — but also with shadows that stretched longer the higher one climbed. For months, Mia had poured every ounce of herself into the creation of her newest jewelry collection. It was the most personal line she had ever designed — a series of pieces inspired by resilience and transformation. She had named it The Phoenix Collection. Each necklace, bracelet, and ring carried subtle symbolism: interwoven bands, molten curves shaped like wings, gemstones set in patterns that reflected rebirth. It was more than fashion.

But before he could touch it, a sickening crack echoed through the chamber. The crane didn't just break; it disintegrated. The wings sheared off, and the body of the bird crumbled into jagged, dull shards. A second ago, Bria had been the jewel of the Ridge. Now, as the masterpiece turned to dust, her face paled to a ghostly white. The guests began to murmur. Was it a curse? Or a fraud?

Sarah’s POV. I glance at a tattoo on my wrist – it’s a bird with a broken-wing, the memories float in my mind. I remember I have always passionate about music. My thumb brushes over the broken-wing, back then, it was a symbol of defeat. Now, it feels different. Not healed, but unfinished. I lower my hand slowly. “That girl…” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible over the city noise “She didn’t disappear, did she?”