“Wings!” I shouted at the staff as the massive pile of garbage soup grew closer. Was it my imagination, or was the trash sinking in the middle like it had opened its mouth to eat me? “Um? Hello, staff!”

I could feel the symbols shudder underneath my palms, but instead of wings, the staff let out a low hum. Was it still mad that I hadn’t been able to use it in the sparring match against Zeran at school?

I was about two feet from the pile when a blur of black wings and blue skin fluttered across my vision. Zeran grabbed my arm to keep me from hitting the trash pile. The staff finally sprouted wings at that exact moment and smacked him in his face. Its purple feathers flew everywhere. Tell me that wasn’t on purpose. I dare you.

Zeran winced and let go, and the staff melted into a harness that latched on to my back with ease. He spat out feathers and glared at me. “Do you have to be so rude?”

“I didn’t do that!” I said, defending myself. “The staff has a mind of its own.”

“No self-respecting thirteen-year-old I know would let their magic be so unrefined.” Zeran landed on a strip of ground free of garbage. “I mastered my magic when I was like eight.”

The like eight part was his way of rubbing it in my face that he was much better at magic than me, as if kicking my butt on the mat weren’t enough.

Eleni hovered over our heads, looking angelic with the way flecks of gold shined in her curly amber ’fro. Six months ago, I thought the aziza—the forest fairies known for their beauty and for being notoriously wary of outsiders—were only something from Papa’s stories. That was before I found out that I had one for a sister.

“It’s very inconvenient that you don’t have real wings, Maya,” she said in her singsong voice, her own iridescent wings shimmering blue, purple, and pink under the fading afternoon sun. “We can’t always expect to land on our feet, you know.”

I resisted the urge to remind her that I was patching up tears in the veil with Papa long before Zeran helped Frankie, Eli, and me rescue her. We’d gone everywhere: oceans, swamps, underground caves, the desert, you name it. All without wings.

“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t born with wings,” I said, annoyed. “I’m neither an aziza nor a darkbringer. Just a plain half human and half celestial here.”

“I’m sure Papa could give you some permanent wings if you ask,” Eleni said excitedly. “They could match mine, and the other godlings would be so jealous.”