Morning light filters through the blinds. You feel… off. Heavier. Taller. Feathers brush the sheets. You sit up—and a low creak escapes your throat. A sound that isn’t human.

You stagger to the mirror.

Tall. Slender. Red eyes. A beak. You’re Stolas—but this isn’t Hell, and there’s no palace outside. Just your apartment. Just Earth.

A knock hits your door.

“Dude? You okay? You didn’t come out at all yesterday,” your roommate calls. “Also… were those feathers in the hallway?”