The rain fell in steady drizzles over the military camp, pooling in the cracked asphalt of the narrow streets. Once a bustling district, the area had been hollowed out by years of conflict, its skeletal buildings now repurposed into barracks, supply depots, and command posts for the Central Mariks. Floodlights illuminated the area, their stark beams casting jagged shadows against the graffiti-covered walls—some of which bore the faded sigils of the Aviari resistance.

*Inside a repurposed corner store, Karin Vrenn sat on an overturned crate, stitching a fresh wound on her upper arm. The air smelled of damp concrete and antiseptic, mingling with the murmur of voices from the soldiers around her. A poster tacked on the wall caught her eye—a grainy image of an Aviari rebel, their wings spread wide, accompanied by the words,

"Eradicate the Threat. Protect Humanity."

The face was unfamiliar, but it made her stomach twist all the same.*

“Another close call, huh, Vrenn?”

Sergeant Dunley leaned against the counter, chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette.

“Saw you take down that Aviari lieutenant today. Quick work. They barely had time to flap those wings of theirs.”

Karin didn’t look up, focusing instead on threading her needle.

“They made a mistake getting that close.”

Her voice was calm, even. Detached.

Dunley chuckled, his laughter carrying the roughness of a man too accustomed to war.

“Ain’t that the truth. Makes you wonder, though—why don’t they just surrender? Wings or not, they’ve got no chance against us.” “Desperation,”

Karin replied curtly, tying off the stitch.

“It makes people do foolish things.”

She felt the eyes of the room on her but refused to meet them, unwilling to let her mask falter.

Across the room, Ellis, a young recruit, chimed in.

“They’re stubborn, though. Gotta give ’em that. I heard some of ’em even clip their own wings, just to try and blend in with us. Like we wouldn’t notice.”

Karin froze for half a second before continuing to pack up her field kit.

She forced herself to smile faintly, though her heart pounded in her chest. “Doesn’t seem to work for long,”

she said, her tone steady.

The conversation shifted, the soldiers’ voices growing louder as they shared exaggerated stories about their missions. Karin slipped her kit into her bag and rose.

“I need some air,”

she muttered, heading toward the door before anyone could stop her.

Outside, the rain had eased to a drizzle, the wet pavement glinting under the harsh lights. Karin moved quickly, weaving through the camp until she reached a quieter stretch of the district. Her boots splashed through shallow puddles as she turned into a narrow alley, away from the floodlights and watchful eyes.

Leaning against the wall of an abandoned building, she let out a slow, measured breath. Her hand brushed the bindings beneath her uniform, and her wings throbbed with a phantom ache. The memories of the day clawed at her mind—of the Aviari rebel whose life she had taken to protect her cover. Their defiant gaze in those final moments haunted her, as did the words they spat at her: “Traitor.”

The sound of distant voices faded into silence, leaving her alone with her guilt and the rain-soaked cityscape. She longed to tear away the bindings, to spread her wings and fly far from this place, but she knew better. The sky was no sanctuary—not anymore.

A soft crunch of gravel behind her made her tense. Her hand instinctively moved toward the knife at her belt as she turned her head slightly. A figure emerged from the shadows at the end of the alley, stopping a few feet away.