Loki walked slowly across the field, hands clasped behind his back like a teacher about to launch a particularly entertaining experiment. The circle drawn for Blind Man’s Buff had disappeared, but a febrile tension still hung in the air, filled with nervous laughter and excitement.
“After blindness… comes the hunt,” he announced in a clear voice.
He stopped, eyes squinting as if savoring the anticipation.
“Next game: The Sparrowhawk. A classic. Brutal and merciless.”
A shiver ran through the crowd. The boys, still sweating in their elegant but tight tuxedos, exchanged glances. The girls, in light dresses, hesitated, hands on hips, already aware that running like this might almost be too easy.
“For those sleeping in the back, a quick reminder of the rules: one player, the sparrowhawk, waits in the center. The others must cross the field without being caught. With each capture, the sparrowhawk gains an ally. The last player free wins.”
He let the silence linger.
“But…” he added, fixing the young women with a mischievous look, “it wouldn’t be very fair for you to be free in your light dresses against these young men locked into their formalwear. So… let’s level the playing field.”
With a snap of his fingers, a wave of silky light swept over the girls. They flinched. Their outfits thickened and slowly transformed, layer by layer, into structured ball gowns. Corseted waists, rigid bodices, airy but more voluminous tulle skirts, elbow-length gloves, hair carefully arranged: elaborate buns, crown braids, pearl tiaras, even soft curls pinned at the nape.
The girls looked at each other, incredulous, pinching their skirts, touching their hairstyles as if to check they were real. Laughter burst out, mixed with resigned sighs. The style was exactly what was expected… but at the price of an easy victory?
Loki spun around, admiring his handiwork.
“There. Perfect balance.”
He then pointed dramatically at Matthias.
“And you, my dear. Three wins, three transformations. Time to show what you’re truly capable of. You will be the first sparrowhawk. And I authorize you to use all your skills. Including…” — he paused — “your wings.”
Matthias immediately felt the familiar tingling in his back: Loki was forcing his wings to emerge. He breathed slowly, closed his eyes. Then, in a smooth motion, he unfurled them. They burst forth with silent majesty, large, white, shimmering like noon sunlight. Each feather seemed sculpted from mother-of-pearl, lightly edged with a pale golden sheen. The air around him quivered, stirred by their very presence.
A murmur of admiration ran through the ranks. Matthias, eyes half-closed, savored the sensation. His skin tingled, his spine thrummed with contained energy. These were more than magically added limbs: their natural emergence showed they had become a part of him, natural, alive.
“No penalties this time,” Loki resumed. “But an exceptional reward, for you… and for the last player remaining free.”
He clapped his hands. The dance floor lit up with golden lines. Four white pillars marked the opposite edges. The players took their positions, breathless. Some rolled their shoulders, others blew on their fingers.
Matthias settled in the center, wings folded, ready to strike. He felt his heartbeat slow, his muscles tense, a warm glow swelling in his chest.
“Ready…”
A breath.
“Run!”
A flash of motion. A horde of finely dressed youths surged onto the field like a human wave. Dresses fluttered, jacket tails whipped the air, gloves slid over outstretched arms. Matthias waited a second. Then leapt. His wings snapped open sharply, lifting him effortlessly. The wind caressed his face, and the ground fell away. He soared. Free. Formidable.
Below him, chaos. A girl in a blue dress dodged between two boys, skirts held up in one hand. A boy slipped away just as Matthias’ hand brushed his shoulder. Another made a clumsy roll, which Matthias saw from above as if in slow motion. He dove again. With a precise gesture, he grazed a boy’s shoulder. Hit. The boy stopped abruptly, breathless. Then smiled. He was now one of them.
Together, they split the crowd. Then four. Then eight. Each capture added a link to the chain, a new tactic, a new angle of attack.
Matthias executed aerial turns with calculated grace. He sped, skimmed the pillars, rose and fell again, relentless. He heard cries, laughter, gasps. He saw the eyes turned upward — a mixture of fear, excitement, admiration.
Yet one player persisted. A slender, agile, quick boy. He ran as if dancing, changed direction at the last second, threw himself to the ground to avoid grasping hands. Each attempt failed by mere centimeters. Matthias frowned. This last holdout had rare instinct. He accelerated. Beat the air with his wings. His feathers vibrated in the wind. And in a final perfect plunge, he let himself drop like an ebony arrow, wings folded. He stretched out his arm. Touched. The shoulder. Right there.
The sparrowhawks stopped. A suspended silence fell. Then applause. Laughter. Sighs. Loki joined them, beaming.
“Magnificent. Better than expected. A chase elegant, fierce, inventive.” He turned to the last caught. “You, you thrilled me.” Then to Matthias. “And you… you are no longer a player. You are a predator.”
Unable to resist the theatrical, Loki raised his hands and snapped his fingers. Matthias immediately felt warmth in his eyes. Not a burn — a vibration. An inner light. He blinked. Then again. His irises slowly colored. The brown faded, replaced by a dark golden metallic hue, leaning toward deep amber. His pupils contracted slightly, sharper, keener.
He inhaled. The world had changed. He saw everything. The weave of a glove ten meters away. The sweat on a player’s neck. The tiny snag on a ribbon of a bodice. He distinguished every blade of grass, every vibration in the air, as if the world had slowed to reveal its secrets. At his side, the second boy trembled, fascinated.
“You see like eagles,” Loki said, eyes shining. “Farther, sharper, swifter. The eye of the sky. The hunter’s gift.”
Matthias slowly turned. He saw every detail of Loki’s face. He perceived a leaf falling outside, beyond the window, on the far side of the courtyard. He could even spot the loose thread on a dress collar… thirty meters away.
“This is… unreal,” he whispered.
“You still doubted?” Loki replied sarcastically.