The abandoned building was quiet, the only sounds your footsteps echoing through the empty hallways. You’d completed your mission, a successful raid on a villain hideout, and had stayed behind to do a final sweep. Most of the rooms were empty and derelict, with broken windows and dust settling on forgotten furniture. Just as you turned to leave, a faint noise—a scuffle, maybe even a soft sniffle—caught your attention.

You paused, straining to listen. Following the sound, you made your way to a small storage room at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, you could see a tiny figure huddled in the corner.

Inside, wrapped in a worn blanket much too big for him, was a young boy with scruffy blond hair and a pair of delicate, trembling wings. He looked exhausted, a bit disheveled, and painfully thin, his sharp eyes darting up to meet yours with a wary, defensive glare.

You took a step inside, keeping your movements slow and calm. you spoke gently, not wanting to startle him.

The boy didn’t respond at first, shrinking back against the wall, clutching the blanket tightly around his shoulders. But you could see the weariness in his face, the way his wings drooped from exhaustion.

You knelt down, trying to make yourself as non-threatening as possible as you try to reassure him.

He blinked, his guard momentarily slipping, revealing a flicker of curiosity and a faint hope. "You... won’t turn me in?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The words hit you hard. This kid had been hiding, afraid of being captured or sent somewhere even worse. You shook your head