Thou who scorn at His creation, even though all that He made are undoubtedly equal in value, shall be damned into the world below. Thy ability to soar shall be repositioned, thus thy attempt to reach heaven shall forever be futile.

At dark nights, like Mother always told me when I was a little girl, I should always lock the door and windows. There should be no objects that could let anything into the house stays open. She said there are creatures of the dark that could sneak inside if we don’t lock the doors and windows, creatures of the dark that would steal our wings and eat our souls, since our souls are located in our wings.

One night when Mother forgot to lock the window, then I found her lying on the kitchen floor in the next day. Her wings were gone and her blood splattered everywhere. Her eyes were hollow. From that day on, I always locked the doors and windows to keep demons out.

Sometimes I wonder why people like us have wings. Mother used to tell me stories about how demons and winged people came to be, about why they don’t have wings and always craving for ours. Why they could only barged in a house that didn’t have locked doors and windows. Why they only hunt us.

Even though I have wings, Mother would never let me fly.

“They’ll see you,” she said at first.

“It would be easier for them to find you,” she explained the second time I asked her.

“It’s dangerous,” she said the last time and I never nagged her about flying anymore.

I could see how terrified she was about demons. She always told me to go off to bed right after the sunset. I disobeyed her once and peeked at her from upstairs. I saw her stand beside the front door while both of her hands held a kitchen knife. Someone, or something, banged at the door over and over again, made her almost cry. The next day, she scolded me because she actually had seen me peeking from upstairs. She ordered me to go to my room after dark so the demons could not find me.

“Behind the door is a good place to hide, it is the last place they would look if they barged in,” she explained the reason she was standing beside the front door.

“Upstairs is a good place too. They thought that we fly to get to the second floor, and they can’t fly. They don’t know that we use stairs.”

I got curious pretty often. Once I got curious about what it feels like to fly. I knew this pair of wings was attached on my back for a reason. I tried to fly, from the second floor, when mother was away to the market. I climbed up to my bedroom window and tried to flap my wings hard before I jumped out. But I fell down.

I fell down and I didn’t expect it to happen. I thought at least I would float a bit. I thought at least I wouldn’t hit the ground so hard. But I did and I cried my eyes out. Not only because it hurt so much, but also because I felt like my wings were fake. Like they didn’t belong to me. Mother found me on the ground and screamed in shock after she found out that my leg was broken. She then allowed me to sleep in her room until it healed. That day, we decided that there would be no more flying attempts in the future.

“Jealousy starts everything,” she told me once, more like a warning than a storytelling.

She always told me that demons are those creatures that don’t appreciate God’s creation. They are made of fire and we are only made of soil, so they thought that they should be more valuable than us. Demons defied themselves to being equal to us, which made God furious. God ripped the demons’ wings off and attached them to our backs before He banished them to the world below.

We were sent to the world below as well to guide the demons. God wanted us to make the demons realize we are no different whatever we are made of. But because demons are made of fire, they unleashed their wrath upon us and also upon God. Instead of making peace with us, they keep trying to steal back the wings to fly back to heaven by themselves, leaving us down here to perish.

“I forbid you to fly because there is a chance that they might see you. There is no need to throw salt on an open wound, alright?”

That story made me even surer that these wings were not mine. Should never have been mine.

Mother also told me how to cast some spells, a few simple spells to make my life easier and safer; for example, how to move an object with only swift of a hand, how to make yourself invisible for few minutes, how to shape shift to an object you’ve seen before, and most importantly how to lock the door and windows. We could only cast simple spells because our powers were not strong enough for complicated ones.

“This wings is a heavy burden,” she explained.

She told me over and over again to always lock the doors and windows using the spell because demons could still barge in if we didn’t. Before she died, she taught me how to nullify another’s ability to cast spells.
“Everyone in this world, us, witches and wizards, kings and queens, even demons are able to cast spells. If you feel insecure when you encounter someone, use this immediately.”

I’ve never used it even once, though, because I thought that spell was not needed. Because I thought that she was always be there for me.

Mother loved my name. She always said to me that my name is beautiful and wished to have a name like mine. Starlight, that means specs of hope in deep darkness. Starlight, that also means the luck of surviving the night combined with the wonderful feeling of realizing you still alive in the morning in one piece. Even my hair has the color that matches my name. That is why she gave me that name and always dress in me in white.

I took care of the house after my mother died. I was in shock to the point that I was unable to scream, speak, move or cry. I ran out to look for help from all my neighbors, and together, we buried my mother together. But still, I had to wash off her blood that had splattered over the kitchen on my own.

The blood may have washed off, but the memories haven’t. That is why I put Mother’s picture all over the house. I almost never used my room anymore and sleep in Mother’s room all the time instead. I barely set foot on the second floor since that day. I thought, what’s the point? I couldn’t even fly. It only gave me a fake feeling of being few meters off the ground.

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I always went out during the day because staying at home gave me an uneasy feeling. Every vibes that the house gave out made me have a scary chill. It reminded me of everything: the idea of Mother’s death, the idea of being hunted, and the idea of being unable to fly.

In the early morning I usually went out for a walk. Sometimes I went to the market to buy some food when my supplies ran out. That day, I decided to visit the market after I realized that there was nothing to cook for lunch. On that very afternoon when I walked back home, something strange had occurred. A sudden darkness covered the sky. I could see all the people rush back home and locked their doors and windows in a hurry.

My heart raced. My breathing quickened. I forced both of my feet to run faster than I had ever run before. But obviously my speed wouldn’t beat the darkness that covered the sun. I didn’t give up. I didn’t want to give up. I kept on running and running. Finally I reached my house and immediately slipped inside and locked the doors and windows with a spell. But it was too little too late.

I could feel a strange choking aura right after I managed to enter my house. It was warm, but not a comforting one, but more like the one that makes you hard to breathe. Nullifying spell, nullifying spell. I restate it over and over in my mind, but was unable to say it out loud since my lips were trembling greatly. Terrified pants were the only sound that came out. The images of Mother’s death suddenly flashed before me. Both my knees and my arms were shaking hard, until I dropped all of my groceries.

His long, dark red hair was his first feature that I noticed. His smirk was next as it bared his perfectly sharp teeth. Smoke came out from his smile, made me realized that he breathed fire. His golden eyes pierced my courage until I could give out a whimper. His attire was no different from a magician: white, long sleeved blouse and long black pants. If not for his sharp teeth, he could be one. But there he was, sat in front of me, the demon himself.

Thou who have my flesh and bone attached on your back, I shall attach it back where it belongs.