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He looked around in shock he was in some sort of native tent made from a horse skin. A light shined from the outside of the tent, as an extravagant man walked inside, he skin was of reddish sandstone color with no hair and large hank brown feathery wings.

“High Priest.” she said bowing down to the man.

He wore somewhat of dress made out of a zebra’s skin and held down by bamboo strings. From his neck hung a golden artifact that resembled a sun with eye carved in the center of it, in his left hand rested a large tree truck that he use for walking stick.

He raised his hand and place in Arhiady’s head. “Arhiady my child I need to discus many thing with this young man, if you could.” his voice was raspy and scratchy.

She got up and open the tent flap, spreading a set golden moth-like wings and flew off.

Brenno was speechless.

“Ah yes, Arhiady is a beautiful Amatean girl, a little naive sometimes yet kind and always stretching a helping hand. I’m not surprise that is why she mistake you for another Amatean.” he priest looked at Brenno. “Can you stand Brenno?”

Brenno got up without saying a word. Who did he knew his name?

Upon seen this the priest put a hand on his heart. “My declaimed of health is no excuse for my lacking of mannerism. I’m Kanzaya the High Priest of the Winged Clan of the Amateans.” Kanzaya cat like eyes looked at Brenno who jumped and put hand on his heart and with the other hand shook Kanzaya’s free hand.

“Let me not take all your day.” said Kanzaya spreading his wings and taking his walking stick with him. “I’m sure you like to spend some time with the beautiful Arhiady.” at this word Brenno blush quite furiously and fallow Kanzaya outside.

The air was clean and the sky free of cloud, the Amateans lived in high pick mountains were the air current were strong and the food was abundant.

Several other Amateans roam the skies free of worries, all with different skin color, wings and size.

“Please fallow me.” said Kanzaya, and they took off to a large mountain clouded by it height.
It felt as they had been flying for hours to air took on a colder child, and once in a while Brenno thought he saw bird with the wingspan of at least a small whale.
“We are nearly there.” said Kanzaya flying a head, for his age he was quite vigorous.
Brenno hit a wall of clouds, after passing through them he was soaked and cold, but didn’t stop him from prosing up ahead, now the clouds were gone and the top of the mountain was visible.
“Impressive is it not?” said Kanzaya remaining still in the air by beating his wings.
Back in his world they would called this magnificent view a ‘demon’, what little did humans knew of beauty, for the golden sculpture he set eyes on was clearly that of an Amatean.

“The Asheen Dyan of the golden wings.”

And clearly Brenno saw that the sculpture which dwarf any edification his people had build was massive, yet retaining it beauty; four wings with the top ones resembling a raven black wings and the lowers ones been more scaly like those of lizard, his body was muscular and cover in a toga.

Kanzaya folded his wings and descended next to the sculpture feet, Brenno fallowed him noticing that the Asheen Dyan face looked at the sky with a warm smile, from his hair a graceful set of long hair rode the wind nearly making him look real.

“Priest in shamans alike all come to this holy ground, it here were we meditated and ponder the future of our race. We must be careful not to fall short to the Mayko and the pleasure he offers of the promise he makes of the Earth-bounds.” Kanzaya spread his arms to the sky, as if he could grasped the sun.

Brenno thought to himself, “I’ve seen a thought man cry for his life, the rich begging for another plate of food, the weak win and break the bones of a sad man…I’ve seen a man of gods lie and the good side of the bad side, and no side it all. I felt the weight of the world nearly crushed me, but what of them?”

Kanzaya smiled and took Brenno’s hand.
“I shall not be greedy and instead share this gift with a brother.” he close his eyes and Brenno did as he did.

And he felt the forces of nature running, laughing, playing and most important he knew now, this people, the Amateans they didn’t judge for the outside, he was not a monster here. He was a free man among wise elders.


It felt as they had been flying for hours to air took on a colder child, and once in a while Brenno thought he saw bird with the wingspan of at least a small whale.

“We are nearly there.” said Kanzaya flying a head, for his age he was quite vigorous.

Brenno hit a wall of clouds, after passing through them he was soaked and cold, but didn’t stop him from prosing up ahead, now the clouds were gone and the top of the mountain was visible.

“Impressive is it not?” said Kanzaya remaining still in the air by beating his wings.

Back in his world they would called this magnificent view a ‘demon’, what little did humans knew of beauty, for the golden sculpture he set eyes on was clearly that of an Amatean.

“The Asheen Dyan of the golden wings.”

And as he slowly open his eyes he felt his face; a cold stream rushing from his eyes, he was crying! When had it been the last time he cried, when his father killed his mother after he discover there son was a paranormal, and how he loved his father even when he decapitated the blind old man and how much he loved to meet his brother other circumstances, he would not had to killed him.

He felt his legs give in and he felt to his knees, whipping. It didn’t matter how far away he when, how many places he called ‘home’, sooner or later to ghost of yesterday caught up with him. He was murder, he killed father and son alike, brother and sister, no mercy and why? Self-preservation, could he possibly atone for his sin by living a moral life? Or was he soul condemn the moment that demon seed grew within his mother’s belly, Brenno.