I woke up out of a dream into what seemed like another. Cool air cycled through the vents of my stone-cut home. I sat up in my hand-woven cot that lay on the mountain floor and lit a well-worn candle made from beetle wax. I uttered my morning prayer to the two blue suns who protect us. A gentle breeze rolled in from the side duct of my carved-out mountain hut and projected out the top, whirling upward and out through the prominent opening. I was in such a trance already that when I opened my eyes, I almost forgot I was holding a candle in my hand. Good thing my home is made of stone, or one of these days I would surely set the place ablaze, I thought.
Beside me was a set of glimmering Aerolite armor on a display rack. Metallic-black, directly underneath the open tunnel-like hole protruding from the ceiling. Three sets of wings were suspended along the spinal column of the Aerolite suit, each set a different size. The first set on top, closest to the shoulders were the largest, fanned out and arched at the tip. The other two sets of wings grew smaller as they went down the lower back. They were similar in model, not fanned and arched like the first, but faint and rounded like an oval.
I slipped out from the comforts of my cot, letting the silk blanket arouse my skin as I stood up and made my way to the fountain on the far side. I doused my face and body with the runoff of stone dripped rainwater that collected into a pool and recycled. My fingers ran through my long, dark, curly hair. I thanked the spirits of stone and water for their blessing by bowing with my hands clasped around my heart. I established myself in my Aerolite suit, then turned my back to the six suspended wings. The armor covered most of my skin except for the artificial ports that augmented my body. I had an augmented spinal column that was capped over the upper half of my spine. It connected to the six ports that ran on both sides of my back. At the moment of contact, the wings drilled themselves into the magnetized ports and then made a snap with the sound of a latch locking them into place.
Before an Aerolite takes off, we pray. We pray to the wind, the masters of clouds and rain, we pray to the carbon fiber, our ancestors that are other worldly, and we pray to the two that are one, to the many, and to the One that is all. I sat cross-legged in silence until, without effort, my wings began to rotate and sync up. It is vital to the Aero’s wings to be synchronized before each flight to ensure proper flight, but also grace and honor. To be out of sync is a sign of disrespect to the spirits, the two, the many, and all, and is usually dealt with by so. As younglings, we were told stories of those who flew out improperly and were taken by the elements. Sometimes, the elemental spirits are angered, and the wind throws them against the rocks, the lightning ricochets between cliffs, cleverly disguised as a great beast, the One that is all would devour them. To be in perfect harmony is not a means of fellowship or doctrine; it is how we have survived for over a thousand years.
Without thought, my wings now tuned, I lifted into the air, still seated. I gently opened my eyes over the next few moments. The wind hurled through my chamber once again, and with it, I propelled into the day.
***
I flew into the tech bay, a mere hollowed cave hanging off the mountain cliff. I landed through one of the many ports topside where other Aeros were descending into and emerging out of. Goji, one of the young female wing technicians, ran and skipped toward me, wearing a much too large mechanic’s jumpsuit. Her face was covered in grease, all except the area around her eyes, from the thick goggles that were now sitting on top of her head. Her scarlet hair was bunned up into three separate parts along the middle. She was still in her second phase and therefore had the energy and excitement of a strike of lightning.
“Lana! Has my favorite Aero come to free me of my ground burden?” A ground burden was a type of slang for those who are tasked without wings, usually because they have not been augmented. She nearly leaped into the air to grasp her dirty arms around me as I was barely touching the ground.
“You know better than to ask an Aerolite to relieve you of your burdens,” I said in a stern voice. Goji lost her joy for a moment as she was taken aback. I broke my facade and laughed, which caused Goji to sigh and smile. “Finish your tasks, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll take you eastside to forage.
Goji groaned, “Foraging is boring, you said you would take me cloud-surfing. You promised.”
“Ok, now you’re lying. You know how dangerous that is with you, no wings.” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Oh come on, Lana, you used to brag about going surfing way before you ever got your wings.” That’s true, I did bring that up more times than I’d like to admit. Goji reminded me of myself when I was her phase. It was thanks to older sisters like me that I had a chance to hone my skills early on.
“Alright,” I said, “I’ll teach you how to surf the sky, but no cloud jumping.”
“That’s alright, Tersh took me last cycle,” she said rambunctiously as she scurried along down the hall back to her tech area.
“Wait, I came to see Nu’Lukar!” I shouted as if chasing after her with my words.
“Why are you telling me? You know he never leaves his hole.” She shouted back at me, eager to finish her workload.
That’s true, I did know where he was. I wanted Goji to stop growing up so fast. She reminded me so much of myself, it was scary, but at the same time, flattering.
***
“Wing four needs to be replaced. By the looks of it, all your wings are going to need a touch-up, especially 1st bracket.” Nu’lukar was the expert wing specialist here at the hangar. He could resemble an Aerosuit in minutes. He could reform carbon fiber like it was clay. He learned how to neurosync wingframes when he was still in the first phase. He’s the smartest kid I’ve ever known, and the only boy I ever hoped to see become a man.
***
I was burdened with the gift of foresight, an ability only a few are born with, and even fewer learn how to wield.
On this night, I dared not sleep as I could hear my heart frantically spoiling what was to come of Nullukar. As if I didn’t already know something terrible was to happen to him, I could feel his unsettled body from the high mountain. A surge in my heart told me he was terrified, that something just happened that made him feel the worst feeling of them all, despair. My chest began to rise and fall. That night, I prayed like no other. I must have burned over a dozen candles, wishing to the deities of the land and heavens to protect my precious Nullukar. I knelt beside my Aero suit and wept. I could feel Nullukar’s hope diminsh inside him. I could see a starship taking him away. I could see the future and his demise. His life would end in terrible conflict, where he is struck down by one of his own. I prayed to Kistahl out of desperation, I dare say, out of greed. I knew what I was about to ask for would break the vows I made to guardianship. I knew I was about to commit the first of possibly many sins. And as I uttered my prayer, I spoke with confidence and defiance. “Hear me, Two of One. I do not understand why I was given a sight I cannot alter. allow me to understand my place.” I opened my eyes as I felt a comforting presence. I sighed in relief. The sound of wonder. Tersha. She flew into my open quarters through the roof.
“Tersha, my dear, something horrible is happening.”
Tersha met my gaze with understanding. She, too, felt what I felt. We embraced each other for a moment to sync up and slow down our heartbeats. She said, “Nullukar’s in danger.”
I nodded. I tried to explain to her with words, but my lips were lost.
“Don’t worry, sister, you’ll never have to explain anything to me. The holy twins have beckoned to us, you know this. we mustn’t waste time questioning our purpose. I fashioned my Aerosuite, and we darted into the nightly heavens.
Elliot Diaz is a fiction writer whose work blends literary imagination with speculative worldbuilding, myth, and emotional depth. A graduate of Maharishi International University in Creative Writing, he is drawn to stories that explore identity, survival, spirituality, and the tension between ancient wisdom and future technology. His current projects include original science-fantasy narratives set in vividly imagined worlds shaped by ritual, flight, cosmic forces, and human longing. Though he is an emerging writer and has not yet been traditionally published, Diaz is actively developing a body of work that reflects both literary ambition and imaginative scope. He hopes to establish himself as a distinctive new voice in speculative fiction through stories that transport readers while speaking to timeless human struggles.
Mountain Jay Books 