âYou werenât supposed to find out... Please donât tell the othersâ Shiro had begged him, his voice raw with unshed tears and eyes glassy as he sunk to the floor with his knees hugged to his chest.
Lance was trapped; backed into the cliff face with at least thirty sentries closing in around him. Every ten he took down, another twenty would appear. He called for backup on the intercom in his helmet, taking down more and more sentries in a futile attempt at survival.
It was as if everything moved in slow motion, the other Paladins were atop the cliff, fighting Horvak and his men and the last time heâd seen Shiro, he lay unconscious, hidden behind the Black Lion as she curled protectively around her Paladin.
Then, as if by a miracle, Lance looked up as a shadow passed overhead, the breath being taken from his lungs.
Shiro! Except instead of the armour he had donned before battle, his flight suit was shredded open and tied around his waist and... wings?
Vast, beautiful wings sprouting from between his shoulder blades, spanning across the sky like the wings of a raven, dotted here and there with patches of white, just like his hair. He landed in front of Lance, clawing and lashing out, the tips edged with razors that sliced through sentries until they fell like dominos.
His breath huffed in his chest, panting with exertion as his wings retracted beneath his skin, leaving nothing but pale skin and the old scars that marred his back. The worst were two parallel lines that spanned the length of his shoulder blades, raised and bloody yet healing before Lanceâs eyes, resealing themselves until Shiro released them again.
Now here they were, beaten and bloodied, with another victory under their belt as they dragged themselves into the communal showers aboard the Castle of Lions to wash off the grime and grit of battle but Shiro was nowhere in sight, having disappeared as soon as the battle was over.
Lance went through his routine distractedly, moisturising his face while lost in thought... Where did the wings come from? Why didnât he want any of us to know? How much pain does it cause him?
The halls stretched on for so long and not long enough, reaching Shiroâs room before heâd fully rehearsed what he was going to say to their leader.
âShiro, buddy, will you please let me in? We need to talk...â Lance trailed off.
âGo away Lance... I donât want you to see... Iâm a monsterâ.
âShiro...â Lanceâs voice broke âShiro youâre not a monster. Let me inâ he pleaded.
The door remained closed for moments that stretched into eternities until finally it opened. Lance stepped in and closed it behind him, a bucket of beauty products clamped firmly in one hand, hoping to pamper the Paladin into feeling better.
Shiro was huddled on the floor, his wings were curled around him protectively. Lance stepped closer, reaching out to run a hand through the ebony feathers, awed at their silken texture.
âHaggar did this to me... one of the aliens I fought in the Arena... these were his... she said they were a gift for my victoryâ Shiro spat, the words tasting like poison on his tongue.
âYou did what you had to do to survive. That doesnât make you a monster Shiro. Theyâre monsters for what they did to you but Iâve seen you fold your underwear... none of us will ever think of you as anything less than our Black Paladinâ.