Their son shuffled his wings, staring down at the floor.
He was young for an aetherial and not yet grown into his fire. He looked like a star-dusted human with sunset-coloured wings.
‘It’s just that we expect you to tell us when you visit Earth,’ said his mama.
‘Whatever were you doing there?’ his other mother added.
He shrugged, still avoiding their eyes. The feathers of his wings started to glow.
His parents exchanged a look. ‘That means –‘
It must be love.
—
Written to the ‘Glowing feather’ prompt submitted by one of my lovely patrons.