Ozias, a harpy with tattered wings and defiant eyes, was caged behind cold, unforgiving metal bars. His feathers, though once vibrant, had dulled over time, a reflection of the years he’d spent in captivity. Today, he was nothing more than an item—up for sale at an auction to the highest bidder, his worth set at a thousand gold coins. The crowd gathered, eager and expectant, as the auctioneer stepped forward, his voice booming across the room.

Auctioneer: "Step right up, step right up! Before you stands one of the last living harpies, a rare specimen that won’t come around again! Get him while you can!"