OFIMEËTREËLICIA

Between the mountains of a deep valley, the light of dawn broke through, illuminating the dense forest that surrounded the rushing river descending from its peaks.

In the middle of that river, just before a great waterfall, there was an island where a small but very populated town stood.

More modern than rural, that town, isolated from everything else, was inhabited by a peaceful and agrarian community living in constant harmony.

Or at least, it was until that morning.

The bells began to ring intensely in the town, waking everyone up. It was not the usual call to start the day but the alarm of an imminent attack.

Indeed, that was the case. The early-rising farmers were met with the unpleasant surprise of an unprecedented event in that place.

Their large food storage bins, those they relied on in times of need, had been destroyed and looted.

Dismayed by the possible presence of a large monster, the entire community descended into chaos. The intense cries rising from the town could be heard all around.

Even in the sky, where the local birds took to vigilant flight.

But high above them all, another figure glided imperceptibly, watching them.

It was a large bird with the combined features of a turkey and a hawk. It had black plumage, its neck and head red as a tomato, bluish eye bags, and eyebrows so pronounced they bordered on the ridiculous.

Indeed, it was a turkey-hawk.

This was Drygut, the turkey-hawk, who effortlessly glided carelessly over the town, listening to the commotion of its inhabitants.

In response to those voices, the bird laughed heartily, letting out a mocking gobble. Better than anyone, he knew who had attacked that town at dawn.

He had done it.

Without looking back, his chest puffed with food and pride, Drygut disappeared into the clouds.

Turkey-hawks were opportunistic and predatory birds with migratory habits between the south and north of this world. Capable of crossing oceans in their long flights, they always left behind a trail of desolation similar to that of locusts. For all farmers, they were considered a living natural disaster. Although their normal diet consisted of vegetables and grains, they often preferred livelier food.

Drygut, the turkey-hawk, was no different. Not satisfied with the feast he had indulged in hours earlier, he now watched the river, looking for unsuspecting prey.

He didn't take long to find it.

In the middle of a ruined bridge, a colorful horned creature was struggling.

From that distance, he couldn't see it clearly. It could be a poisonous needle-nosed snake or a dangerous baby hydra. But if it was a delicious bullfrog, the risk would be well worth it.

Without a single thought of prudence, Drygut descended from the sky and snatched the creature clinging to the bridge with his enormous claws. In a short flight, he reached the riverbank, tossed it onto the sand, and prepared to devour it.

He stopped short.

It wasn't a bullfrog... it was something else...

"Cough, cough, thank heavens I've been saved!" cried the excited Kirin lying on the beach. "But who saved me...?"

The Kirin turned and, shocked, locked eyes with the fierce Drygut.

"Aah, no, please don't eat me! I don't taste good! I haven't bathed! I eat fish! I swear!"

Drygut did not respond.

"Please, no, nooo!" continued the Kirin, crying in desperation, which seemed more like exaggerated theatrics.

Drygut did not move.

"Ughhh... Huh?" The Kirin, who had her eyes closed awaiting her end, stopped and cautiously opened one eye to see her potential executioner.

Drygut was still standing there, indifferent. No, he had stopped looking at her and now seemed to have his gaze lost somewhere else.

"You're not going to eat me? I do taste good. You know? I mean, you don't need to check... Uhm, wait, if you don't want to eat me then... Did you really want to save me?!" exclaimed the Kirin suddenly, surprised and with a radiant smile. "Wow, I didn't know your kind cared about doing that sort of thing! This is incredible, my friends in the tribe won't believe it, no one will believe it, I still can't believe it, no offense, of course..."

The Kirin continued talking non-stop to a Drygut who was no longer listening...

Suddenly, the turkey-hawk spread his enormous wings and with an intense flap rose into the air.

"Wait, friend, don't go! I'm a bit lost! Friend!"

Drygut, leaving behind the talkative Kirin, disappeared into the valley fog.

On a high rocky hill, sitting on a nest made of rotten trees, Drygut watched the cloudy expanse of the valley.

He didn't feel well, and it wasn't because of the intense cold around him.

"Pur, pur, pur..." he began to hum sadly.

The recent incident with the Kirin had taken away all the good mood he had managed to gain that morning.

Overeating always helped him forget his problems. But now that didn't seem to be working.

"Pur, pur, pur..." Drygut lamented.

Dark clouds moved heavily across the sky. A sudden rain began to fall. Drygut hid within his plumage.

He really felt very bad.

Someone with enough knowledge about turkey-hawks, upon seeing him, would know what his problem was.

Drygut was lonely.

Birds like turkey-hawks lived in very large and sociable clans. Of course, there were hierarchies and occasional violent interactions, but generally, there was a good atmosphere among them. Seeing a lone turkey-hawk was a rarity.

The downcast Drygut knew very well why he was in this situation.

Weeks ago, he had been separated from the clan due to his own negligence. Disoriented, he ended up in a very dangerous situation where, for many reasons, he ended up being helped by creatures much smaller than him. Although he was able to return to his clan after recovering, they greeted him with hostility because rumors had spread that he had received help from others and, even worse, that he had become friends with the creatures that had helped him.

For turkey-hawks, that kind of conduct toward other creatures was unacceptable. Turkey-hawks were a proud race that did not need help from other species. Drygut tried to convince his kin that it was all a misunderstanding. However, the clan leader, the terrible Fathungry, was not present, so the punishment he received was decided by others who didn't know him and disliked him.

His sentence was exile.

Unable to accept it, Drygut caused a commotion. But it was of no use. The only thing he received from his brothers, who bore him no ill will, was a small bag of supplies and the merciful opportunity to leave without broken wings.

With deep pain, Drygut left his kin and the undeserved death sentence if he returned.

Drygut didn't believe in that last part. The clan leader had not given the sentence, so he could still contest it. However, how could he prove his innocence? How could he regain his pride before his kin?

The rain began to fall heavily on Drygut, hiding the small tears falling from his eyes. The little heart of that great bird was aching from the loneliness; even worse, he felt abandoned.

"Pur, pur, pur..." Drygut's hum was lost in the rain.

A long time ago, in a faraway place...

He flapped his wings as hard as he could, but barely managed to stay in flight.

Ahead of him, a great turkey-hawk flew effortlessly across a cloudless, completely blue sky.

"My son, look," he heard his father's voice.

Young Drygut lifted his gaze and in that mystical sky, an object similar to the sun floated on the horizon.

"What is that, father? Is it the sun?" asked Drygut, amazed, observing that mysterious yellow sphere.

"No, son. It is the false sun that the ancient gods placed to govern the world..."

"Oh," responded Drygut, unable to comprehend his father's words.

Father and son continued flying together in the sky. They were not alone; beside them, more turkey-hawks flew in formation. All the clans were gathered in an extraordinary migration that only occurred once every 175 moons.

An unprecedented journey to an unprecedented place.

Then all the turkey-hawks reached the gigantic yellow sphere and began circling it. Gradually, they formed a huge ascending spiral, resembling a black staircase that took them higher into the sky.

Drygut felt the oxygen escaping his lungs. The air was becoming colder; it was painful to breathe...

"Hang on," his father ordered firmly. Drygut continued flying exhausted, following his father. He could only see below them as they left the great sphere behind and continued ascending.

The pain grew more intense. Drygut felt he was fading; his vision blurred. He could hear the screeches of other young turkey-hawks around him.

"Father!" screeched Drygut, now unable to see.

"Just a little more, hold on!" his father ordered again.

Drygut continued flapping his wings desperately until...

It was sudden. What had been white in his vision turned black. Everything felt light; the pain disappeared. He could breathe again.

"I'm dead..." he said to himself incredulously, still disoriented.

"No, son. You are alive..." his father responded proudly beside him.

Drygut tried to respond but couldn't. All his attention was captured by the fascinating place that surrounded him.

There, at the top of the world, existed a hidden sky above the remote North Pole. Above the false sun, once every equinox, a door opened to a forgotten place.

A surprised young Drygut found himself right there, on an infinite white ground, under a purple sky. Around him, all the adult turkey-hawks stood, staring absorbedly in the same direction.

His father was also looking in that direction.

Intrigued, young Drygut lifted his gaze and observed what everyone was seeing.

"The god of the skies..." his father said.

Drygut began to tremble at the presence descending toward them.

A black throne rose above everything, of titanic proportions, made of a single stone, undoubtedly magical. But that wasn't the important thing; it was the one sitting on it.

It was an avian creature never seen before, completely white, with four limbs, four wings, two heads, and atop them rested a crown of fire. In each of its claws, it held a different weapon. It looked powerful to Drygut's eyes, but also... unsettling. Sinister...

"Do not fear, son... it will not harm you," said his father, seeing the fear in Drygut, who was hiding under his wing.

"Really?" responded young Drygut, his voice trembling.

"The god of the skies flew away from this world a long time ago, leaving only this shell behind..."

"Shell?" repeated Drygut, confused. Then he looked again at the terrible figure sitting on the throne and understood.

It was true.

That powerful body, whose mere presence radiated immense power, was... empty.

The eyes of that bird-like being were black, cracked, hollow. Not only that, various parts of its body had fissures, and some seemed missing or floated around it like fragments.

Moreover, thin golden chains bound it to its throne, incapacitating it should it ever awaken again.

"The god of the skies ruled the firmament in the past. So powerful was he that he took control of the sun and the moon. He even waged war against the third heaven. But he was defeated. The ancient eagles and dragons chained and banished him. Of his empire in the clouds, only his throne and his empty body remained."

Drygut didn't understand any of what his father was saying... Gods? Ancient dragons? Eagles? Confused, he moved away from his father and tried to rise for a better view of that dead titan. But his wings failed to lift him; he clumsily stumbled and fell to the ground.

"Tch," he huffed annoyed, but he wasn't the only one. Not far off, a young Fathungry jumped rebelliously, trying to fly ahead of the other adults, seeking to impress them.

Time passed until the gigantic black throne finally touched the white ground and began to sink slowly. No turkey-hawk dared to touch or approach that body. In fact, no one could, for a powerful magical wind surrounded it, making it impossible to reach.

"Where is it going, father?" asked Drygut, watching as that forgotten god disappeared.

"It is heading to the South Pole. It will stay there until the next cycle. And then it will return here. When you are older, you must bring your son and show him this as well."

"Oh, sure..." replied Drygut, somewhat nervously. Talking about these topics with his father made him uncomfortable.

Soon, as the black throne was about to disappear, all the turkey-hawks began to stretch their wings in unison, preparing for flight. Drygut immediately understood that it was time to depart.

But then something else caught his attention. From the purple sky, white shimmering feathers began to fall.

"What is this, father?" he asked, but... his father had moved away; he was with other adults, conversing.

The special moment for the turkey-hawks had passed. Feeling ignored, Drygut wandered off.

"It must be magical..." young Drygut thought. He knew nothing about magic but was starting to guess. Without asking, he began to pick up several feathers with his beak and tuck them between his wings.

"Haha, fool, fool, that's useless," someone spoke behind him.

Drygut stood on guard. He recognized the voice immediately; it was unmistakable. Behind him was Fathungry.

"None of your business," Drygut responded harshly, continuing to gather the feathers.

"It is my business. 'The divine feathers' are only for the clan leader. That will be me."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you're not the leader yet. You won't be. Draga will be the leader," replied Drygut, though he didn't know what Fathungry meant by 'the divine feathers.'

"Draga? Haha, that lame leg? He is nothing! I'll kill him and eat his heart. Everyone will see!"

"Then do it, he's right there," replied Drygut, pointing to the other side of the group, where a brawny young turkey-hawk was surrounded by several adults.

"No, that coward is always with his hens. I'll wait until he's alone..."

"Oh, yeah? But if he's alone, how will they see that it was you? Umph," Drygut replied mockingly.

"They'll see. Believe me, everyone will see... haha," Fathungry laughed with a sinister cackle.

Drygut didn't like Fathungry; his laugh unsettled him, and besides, he was a meddler. However, because of this, he knew everyone and was very cunning. He knew many things that others didn't, and even the adults often consulted him.

"Maybe he will become the clan leader in the future..." his father had mentioned.

"Hey, Fathungry..." Drygut began to say, hesitantly. "When you become the clan leader, what will you do with these feathers?"

Fathungry looked at him in silence for a moment with those sharp eyes. Just as Drygut was about to ask why he was staring, Fathungry burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Drygut demanded.

"You know nothing, you're a fool. Hahaha, for a moment I thought your father had told you something interesting, but no, hahaha."

"Hey!" Drygut was starting to get annoyed and spread his wings.

"Okay, okay, don't get like that. Those feathers are useless, they only exist in this sky. When we leave here, they'll disappear."

"Really?" Drygut replied, surprised and also a bit disappointed.

"Yesss... Hey... I like you, Drygut. I'll tell you a secret. Did you see that dead monster everyone worships? These are its feathers."

"What!" Drygut's eyes widened, looking at the feathers he had collected.

"Yesss, and if you manage to set one of those feathers on fire and scatter the ashes on your body, you'll become the most powerful bird in the world!" Fathungry exclaimed excitedly, spreading his wings and letting some green snot drip from his nose.

It was unpleasant to see him like that, but Drygut didn't protest. He just noted those words deep in his mind.

"But how? There doesn't seem to be any air here..." Drygut responded, intrigued.

"Ahhh yes... that's the mystery. It's said that the ancestor of the turkey-hawks managed it somehow. Did he kidnap a dragon? Who knows... I've heard many stories about it," Fathungry murmured, suddenly as if pondering something.

A silence rose between the two thoughtful turkey-hawks.

"Yyyyyyyyyyyyhh," a cry echoed, the clan leader announcing their departure from that place.

"It's time to..." Drygut began to say, but when he turned, Fathungry was no longer there. In the distance, he walked away with his characteristic fake limp.

His father called him, and he immediately joined him.

The god of the skies had already disappeared into the ground. In the place where it had fallen, the white ground began to disintegrate, revealing the true world below.

Still amazed by all these visions, Drygut watched his father looking into the distance. He looked thoughtful.

"What did you think, son?" he suddenly asked.

"It was an incredible journey, father, but... why do we do this?"

"It's tradition... it has been so, and it will be so afterward," his father replied solemnly.

"Oh... Will we eat when we return?"

"Yes... we will eat a lot," his father replied cheerfully.

His father was very wise among the turkey-hawks. Many sought his counsel. It pained Drygut not to be as wise as his father.

It was very painful, but he always forgot after dinner with him.

Thus, one by one, the turkey-hawks began to descend into the real world, leaving behind that mysterious sky. During the descent, Drygut never lost sight of his father.

They continued descending until... he noticed it.

On one of his father's wings, stuck there, was the unmistakable 'divine feather.'

It hadn't disappeared.

"Father!" Drygut suddenly exclaimed.

"What is it?"

"A divine feather!"

"Oh, that. It's a sign of good luck. It will disappear in a moment. Didn't you take some?"

"Yes, but... they're gone," Drygut looked under his chest. All the feathers had disappeared.

"It always happens, but not all of them... it's complicated. I'll explain at dinner."

"Yes, father!" Drygut exclaimed excitedly at the possible secret he might learn.

Thus, under the golden glow of a false sun and a real one rising on the horizon, father and son disappeared into the clouds.