The following is taken from the Part 3 of the first draft of my novel, “The Nexus.” Syn is a 16-year-old engineer. Nathaniel is an angel.
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They walked along the edge of the root for another hour, looking for some kind of chasm. Due to a trick of the light, they didn’t find it until they almost fell into it.
A huge cleft in the ice yawned before them, blue striations leading inexorably down into darkness. The gap was awing, hundreds of feet across, and the chasm seemed to disappear beneath the root of the tree that still towered above them.
“It’s down there?” Syn asked. “I can’t climb that, not without a harness and the proper pulleys—” She almost got lost in calculations, then said, “But we don’t have any of those resources.”
Nathaniel put a hand on her shoulder.
“What?” she asked, turning.
Nathaniel looked at her, gave her a moment.
“I’m serious, without some way of securing myself, or, I don’t know, flying—” She stopped.
Like he had done so often as they travelled across the plain of ice, Nathaniel lifted Syn into his arms.
“Hold on tight,” he said.
“Wait,” Syn panicked, “my body’s too heavy, your wings can’t support that weight, the physics is—”
And Nathaniel leapt off the cliff.
For a moment, they plummeted through freefall, then Nathaniel spread his wings, and the air caught them. They slowed, soared out over the ice, the chill wind whipping at their hair. Nathaniel banked, and began a lazy spiral descending into the chasm.
When she had regained her breath, Syn gasped, “But—physics!”