A Butterfly with a Bird’s Wings by Via M. {Inklings Book Contest 2024 Finalist}

Today we are featuring Inklings Book Contest 2024 finalist Via M.! Via finished 10th grade this past school year and wrote a story about fae called “A Butterfly with a Bird’s Wings.”  Our judges loved the deep emotions and well-crafted storytelling in this piece. Click Via’s digital book below to enjoy her story.

A Butterfly with Bird’s Wings
By Via M.

Zaos had always wanted butterfly wings.

Don’t misunderstand him; he wasn’t ungrateful like the other Fae children. His father had once donned iridescent blue and green dragonfly wings that made a delightful hum whenever he used them. His mother was praised for her sunset-streaked butterfly wings, large and graceful to echo her very soul. She was a tailor for the High Fae and was renowned for how her beauty seemed to seep into her work, almost like she was weaving the world into her fabric. 

But Zaos had no such beauty on his back. Instead of dragonfly or butterfly wings, he had bird wings. Silky and graceful membranes had been replaced with spotty, rough feathers that were lopsided and awkward. A kaleidoscope of colors was replaced with an odd blue that clashed with his pale skin and dark eyes. 

He was an ugly Fae, despite what his mother whispered to him at night.

And ugly Fae wasn’t even Fae at all. 

So at age nine, Zaos had learned to hide his wings. He had first tried binding, but it hurt terribly and seemed to make his wings even more disturbing. He had tried to cover it up with his mother’s beautiful coats and capes, but his feathers refused to stay down. 

For a while, he had stopped going to classes. He couldn’t stand the looks from the other Fae, goblins, and changelings. They all looked exactly how they were supposed to. Graceful tails, pointed ears, and mossy antlers to sea green skin and knot rope hair; they all were exactly how they were expected and supposed to be. 

More and more, Zaos found himself walking home with bruises against his skin and his wings throbbing.

Fae were cruel. Zaos knew that. He was one. But Fae were even crueler to imperfections in their kind. The Court demanded beauty and perfection, not leftover scraps from a last-minute prisoner garb.

So when Zaos found Evette the enchantress, how was he to say no? Her instructions were simple; the most beautiful piece of fabric he could find, a handful of his feathers, and something of equal value. The first two were easy to get for her, however Zaos was finding nothing he considered of equal value. To him, nothing was as hideous as his wings. But then he remembered the whispers of his mother at night, telling him how beautiful his wings were, how complete they seemed to be with his father’s. 

He couldn’t get his father’s wings. They were buried with his flesh somewhere in the mortal world under a willow tree. Zaos had never been allowed to visit, and even if he knew where his grave was, he doubted he would be able to get past the barrier. 

Instead, Zaos had waited until his mother was asleep to gently take his father’s ring that sat inside a small box. The box sat on top of their mantle, alongside a delicate sketch of his soft features and gentle smile. The box was decorated in small gems, with deeply colored ivy snaking around the smooth tan wood, and wrapping around the gems. He remembered how long his mother had saved up for that box, wanting something of beauty to remind her of her beautiful husband. Maybe deep down, Zaos was terrified by what he was doing and the betrayal he was committing against not only his mother but also his father. 

Before Zaos’ father had betrayed the Court, he had been everything to Zaos. Before, and even after Zaos had started flying lessons, his father would swoop him up in his arms and take him flying. His father would hold him tight to his chest, promising him that he wouldn’t let him fall. They would skim above the surface of creeks and lakes, and Zaos would always lower his hand to feel the rush of icy water threading through his fingers. 

They had stopped flying about a week before the news of his father’s betrayal came out.

Zaos had wanted nothing more than to clear his father’s name, even though deep down he couldn’t.

It wouldn’t have made much of a difference in the end anyway. 

But no matter what others said about his father, Zaos would still hold the memory of his father in the perfect, pure, and oh so loving light that he had always had for him. 

The idea of upsetting his grave or taking one of his possessions was enough to drive Zaos to the point of sickness. 

But regardless of what he thought, Zaos was a Fae. And Fae was cruel.

The ring was handed over to the enchantress without so much as a fuss. And when Zaos had returned to her small shack on the edge of the forest the next day, the bargain was made complete. Though, it wasn’t what he expected. He had thought that the enchantress would have him drink some sort of potion or make some sort of final path, and then his wings would change. He imagined graceful butterfly wings like his mother or fast, glossy wings like his father. Instead, he was handed a deep blue cape. He had stared at her in confusion and frustration. After all, she was Fae just like him, meaning she could not lie. She could not deceive him.

“Try it on,” she instructed, a hunger in her words. “I do not deceive you, little one. Nor do I lie.” 

Zaos did. At first, nothing happened. He could feel the fabric scrape against his sensitive feathers, just like it had when he tried to cover them up once before. But then he was met with sharp pain as if someone was ripping his wings out with their cruel, unforgiving fists. A scream ripped from his throat as he collapsed to the flood, his hands digging into the splintered wood under him. But as soon as it had arrived, the pain passed. When he looked up, Zaos found himself in a grassy clearing in the woods, the familiar moon still judging him from the sky. But the enchantress and her shack were gone. Zaos wasn’t surprised. Of course, she had left when the bargain was done, wanting to bask in her glory and power before someone could report her to the Court. 

But when Zaos stood up, he felt…different. Lighter? He wasn’t quite sure. His heart left into his throat when he reached a hand to his back, only to meet the fabric of the cape. No rough feathers. No imperfections. No way to fly. A panicked yelp left his lips and he raced to unclamp the cape, crying out once more at the pain that raced across his back when the fabric fell upon the grass. He reached to his back one more, and he was surprisingly relieved to feel that his wings were still there, as though they had never left. But he paused and did his best to pull his wings in front of him.

They looked even worse than before. The color had dulled in odd places and clumps of feathers were missing, whereas the others still there were askew and bent. 

Zaos felt tears burn in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted this. He just wanted to not be ugly anymore. He wanted to be beautiful like his mother. But then a thought came to him, slow and unnerving.

He has never told the enchantress that he wanted beautiful wings like his parents. In the midst of his self-loathing and sorrow, he had demanded to be made beautiful. 

The enchantress had upheld her end of the bargain far too well. Instead of giving the Fae child new wings, why not give a device that would make the wings as if they never existed? It was a cruel twist of fate that his wings were damaged within the fabric weaved with magic. 

He didn’t take the cape off except for sleeping or bathing.

Others noticed, as did his mother. Fae no longer treated him like the dirt under their shoes, but instead as an equal. After all, he had no imperfections. Yet he didn’t miss the sorrowful looks she gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking. For some reason, it hurt him more when she sat with him longer at night, gently preening the damaged feathers. She never commented on him. Never treated him any differently than she always had. She never mentioned the ring either, which surprised Zaos more than anything. 

Zaos had always wanted butterfly wings.

But as of now, he would give anything to have his old, ugly wings back. 

At least with them, he’d be able to fly.