Chapter 262: Chapter 262: Chicken Wings

Cecilia couldn’t stop gasping. Her eyes darted everywhere, wide with wonder as the land stretched beneath them like a moving painting.

Fields, rivers, and roads all looked like ribbons and threads woven across a green and silver quilt.

"Oh my gosh..." She whispered, her eyes wide in amazement. "That’s Victoria’s Bridge! Look—there, over the river! And, oh! That’s the Arch of Fallen Hyde!"

Her voice was bright, almost childlike, as she kept pointing at landmarks below.

"And...wait, I think my grandma’s house is somewhere over there!"

Her laughter echoed softly against the wind, filled with excitement and disbelief. They were soaring higher and higher, the buildings shrinking until they looked like toys scattered across the earth.

It was incredible. Fauna’s wings only flapped occasionally, yet they were moving faster than a jet plane.

The strange part was how comfortable it felt—there was no harsh wind, no biting cold on her face, just a steady, weightless glide through the sky.

The air shimmered faintly around them, forming a soft protective barrier.

Still, the realization that she was hundreds—maybe thousands of feet above the ground made her heart race. One wrong slip, and she’d be gone.

But somehow, Fauna’s grip was firm and gentle, and the aura surrounding them gave her a strange sense of security.

"This is incredible." Cecilia said in awe. "We’re flying faster than a jet, and yet—it’s so calm, so gentle. Lady Fauna, this is amazing!"

"I’m glad you like it, Cecilia." Fauna chuckled warmly. "It’s been a while since I’ve had passengers who enjoy the view."

But when Cecilia turned to Mika—ready to share her amazement—her excitement stumbled.

He wasn’t reacting at all.

He was just...there. Calm. Relaxed. A little bored, even.

"...Mika?" She asked, blinking. "Why aren’t you surprised? Why aren’t you even smiling or scared or anything?"

He slowly turned his head toward her, completely unfazed. "Because I’ve done this before."

"What?" She said incredulously. "You’ve flown through the sky like this before? With her?"

"Plenty of times. This isn’t the first." Mika nodded, his tone almost too casual.

"Oh, he’s not lying." Fauna giggled. "Back when he was a kid, I used to drop him off at school this way."

Cecilia blinked. "You what?"

"Yes!" Fauna said proudly. "Whenever he was running late, I’d grab him by the waist and fly him straight across the city. It was much faster than walking or taking a transport."

Cecilia looked like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream.

"You mean to tell me you...airlifted him to school?!"

"Mm-hmm." Fauna said, smiling fondly. "But the best part wasn’t dropping him off—it was picking him up."

Cecilia’s curiosity got the better of her. "What do you mean? Did you just wait outside the gate and—"

"Oh no, no." Fauna shook her head mischievously before saying, "I’d fly above the school, circle around like a vulture, and wait for him to come out."

"...And the moment he stepped outside, I’d swoop down at full speed, grab him by the shoulders, and carry him away!"

"Lady Fauna! That...That’s terrifying!"

"Oh, his reactions were priceless at first!" Fauna laughed, covering her mouth. "Every time I swooped down, he’d scream like a startled kitten and try to run away. I think for the first few days he thought he was being attacked by a giant demon bird!"

"Of course he would! Anyone would!" Cecilia burst out laughing.

But Mika rolled his eyes. "In my defense, I was six."

"Six and so dramatic." Fauna teased, smiling at him before saying,

"Though eventually, he got used to it. After the first week, whenever he heard my wings flapping overhead, he’d just stop, raise his hands up, and wait for me to grab him—like a tiny sacrifice waiting for the goddess."

Cecilia was laughing so hard she nearly forgot they were flying. "That’s adorable!"

"Adorable? It was traumatic." Mika muttered under his breath, thinking that Yelena and Fauna were the same when it came to giving him PTSD when it came to flying.

Fauna puffed out her cheeks.

"Oh, don’t be such a baby! And besides..." She crossed her arms while still flying effortlessly. "...you should be grateful. Not everyone gets personal air transport service from a beautiful angel like me!"

"You mean a chicken." Mika smirked.

Fauna froze. "...What did you just say?"

"I said a chicken." Mika repeated calmly. "Others may think your wings look angelic, but to me, they look like a chicken struggling to take off."

Fauna gasped in offense.

"A chicken?! You dare call these angelic wings that? You could have at least said peacock! Or egret! Or even a dove!"

Mika chuckled, eyes glinting playfully. "Still a chicken at the end of the day."

Fauna glared at him for a few seconds before flicking one of her feathers at his face. "Bad Mika."

Cecilia watched the exchange with a soft, lingering smile. The way they teased and laughed together—it wasn’t just familiarity; it was history.

She could feel it in their tone, their comfort with one another. They had been like this since forever, she realized.

The warmth in her chest made her heart flutter.

But then, a chill ran down her spine.

The air was changing.

The light that bathed them began to dim, and a biting cold swept through the air. When she looked down again, her eyes widened.

They were no longer over the cities or plains. Below them stretched endless white—jagged peaks of snow-covered mountains, veiled in mist and clouds.

And far ahead, through the haze, she could already see faint flickers distress flares and scattered fires.

The warmth of laughter faded as the reality of where they were headed finally sank in.

The Snow Cloud Mountains.

Just the name once evoked beauty, peace, and the quiet thrill of adventure. They were called that because walking on them was like walking on a cloud.

The snow here wasn’t ordinary; it was soft, airy, and almost weightless, so finely powdered that it felt like mist underfoot.

This phenomenon wasn’t natural—it was a side effect of a dimensional change long ago, when a fortress had emerged in the region due to a rift.

The event had altered the structure of the snowflakes themselves, breaking them into particles far smaller than normal, each one so light that it refused to compact.

Real estate developers had discovered this decades ago and saw opportunity in what nature—or perhaps fate had created.

They built sprawling ski resorts along the inner ridges of the range, where the snow’s ethereal softness made it perfect for gliding. Even when people fell, the snow would catch them gently, letting them sink harmlessly into its cold embrace.

Families came here for the sense of magic, for the safety that the softness offered, for the illusion that they were dancing across clouds.

But that same softness had now turned deadly.

Cecilia looked down from the sky, and her heart clenched. All those families, all those children who had been laughing hours ago, were now buried somewhere beneath that same fragile beauty.

The thought alone made her stomach twist.

Then she heard Fauna’s voice, calm, but carrying a gravity that made Cecilia’s pulse quicken.

"We’re here."

Cecilia turned, and her breath caught in her throat.

The largest mountain below them loomed vast and dark, but something was wrong.

The peak, which should have been pure white, glistening with unbroken layers of snow, was black. The top layer had completely slid down the slopes, revealing the mountain’s jagged surface beneath.

The devastation below was staggering.

Where there should have been bright resorts, ski lifts, glowing signs, and bustling crowds, there was now only white—deep, suffocating, endless white.

A few ruined rooftops and half-buried buildings jutted out of the snow, like broken bones pushing through flesh.

Cecilia’s breath caught as she saw people scattered everywhere—tiny figures moving desperately across the field of snow, digging frantically with their hands, shovels, anything they could find.

Their voices reached them even at this height—calls for help, screams of names, sobbing pleas to gods or spirits that wouldn’t answer.

Fauna descended slowly, her wings folding closer as they approached the surface.

When her feet finally touched the ground, the snow barely crunched beneath them; it was that soft.

Normally, her arrival like this would have drawn gasps or cheers—people might have surrounded her, asking for photos, calling her name with admiration. She was, after all, one of the most famous healer alive.

But now...no one even looked at her.

Everyone was too consumed by grief.

Mika watched quietly as people dug through the snow with bleeding hands, their eyes hollow and desperate. They didn’t even know where their loved ones were buried—or if they were still alive. The futility of their efforts pressed on him like a weight.

In the distance, a row of medical tents had already been erected, their flags fluttering weakly in the wind. But only a handful of patients were inside—those who had somehow managed to crawl out or been near the surface when the avalanche struck.

The rest...were still entombed below.

Mika’s gaze then shifted slightly when he noticed something unusual: several blessed had already arrived, probably the rescue team sent.

But for some reason, they weren’t helping.

They stood at the edges of the field, faces grim, frustration etched into every line.

Some were kneeling, their hands pressed to the snow, whispering incantations. But nothing was working. Their auras flickered, unstable, like something was resisting them.

Even the strongest among them looked defeated.

Mika narrowed his eyes.

’So, it’s not just the avalanche. Something else is wrong here.’

And it didn’t take long for him to realise the problem they were facing which was actually something pivotal and something he couldn’t just ignore.

Knowing what was going on he was about to inform Fauna, when he noticed she wasn’t moving.

Fauna, who just moments ago had been cheerfully recalling old takes, now stood trembling. Her hands, which had been so steady in flight, were shaking violently.

Her wings drooped, feathers rustling softly in the wind. Her eyes darted across the scene—people crying, bodies being pulled from the snow and her lips moved in faint, broken whispers.

"Fauna..." Mika said softly, stepping closer.

She didn’t seem to hear him. Her shoulders shook harder, her breath shallow. It was as if the confident woman from before had vanished entirely, replaced by someone lost and fragile.

Her eyes were dim now, dull and wet, staring into the wreckage without really seeing it.

And when she finally whispered again, her voice was so faint that only Mika could hear it.

"...not again...please...not again..."

It was then that Mika realized, she wasn’t trembling because of the cold.

She was trembling because the war was still inside her, clawing its way back through memories she could never escape.