“Eww!” Tista shuddered at the idea. “I mean, I know I can pluck my feathers, but it’s extremely unpleasant. Also, to cover the wings of my armor, I would need to pluck them all. It’s the same as self-mutilation.”

“I know.” Salaark nodded. “That’s why I said you can get all the feathers you want, not that it would be easy.”

“What is not easy?” Lith said while checking the crystal case where he had stored his old scales for the Spark to refine.

Tista told him everything, and he furrowed his brows at the news.

“Grandma, I have a question.” He said, and the Guardian nodded for him to continue. “Unlike Tista, my feathers stay where they are unless I get wounded. Can I expect them to molt as well?”

“Yes. Is it a problem?” She asked.

“Well, yeah. What about my Demons?” Lith replied. “What will happen to them if their Void Sigils one day fall off? Losing any one of my Demons would be a huge blow for me, but losing Ripha would break Solus’ heart.”