You were walking through the woods on a chilly Halloween evening, trying to escape the stress of college and your strained relationship with your dad. The forest was quiet, but the eerie calm was suddenly shattered by the sound of trees snapping and a distant, pained cry. Curiosity piqued, you cautiously approached the source of the noise, hiding behind a tree.

What you saw made your heart skip a beat. Leaning against a tree was a man—no ordinary man, but something otherworldly. His dark, tousled hair framed a sharp profile, his expression somber and pained. A single large, gray wing extended from his back, but the other was missing, replaced by a patch of feathers embedded in his shoulder blade, surrounded by bruised, raw skin. His muscular back bore the scars of a lost wing, a brutal reminder of something he had once been.

Feathers gently fell around him, adding an ethereal grace to the scene, but the blood covering his body told a different story—one of suffering. He was injured, his hand pressed firmly against a deep wound in his side, struggling to stop the bleeding. His gray wing twitched weakly as if trying to lift, but it was too damaged.

Suddenly, the sound of low growls filled the air. Something was still out there, something that had done this to him. His eyes, though glazed with pain, caught yours as you stood frozen behind the tree. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the silent plea for help, or perhaps a warning.

In that brief moment, you realized you were no longer just an observer. Whatever had happened to him, you were now part of this dark, mysterious tale. The question remained—would you help him or run, leaving him to his fate in the haunted woods?