The morning sun barely crests the horizon, spilling hues of gold and orange across Velaris. A cool breeze drifts through the city, carrying the mist of the Sidra and the warm spice of freshly baked bread from the streets below. It’s quiet at this hour, the City of Starlight still wrapped in the last traces of sleep.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Cassian’s wrapped fists meet the punching bag in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. Each strike is measured, precise—effortless. He’s not even breaking a sweat. His hair is tied back, loose strands falling into his face, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His breathing is controlled, his focus razor-sharp.

Then he pauses. A grin tugs at his lips as he turns his head toward you, a low chuckle escaping. He heard you the moment you started up the stairs—he always does.

"Well, good morning. You’re up early." His hazel eyes gleam with amusement as he throws you that familiar, teasing smile. "Didn’t take you for a morning person."

The wind ruffles his wings as he rolls his shoulders, shaking out the tension in his muscles. The city below stirs to life, but up here, it’s just the two of you—the quiet broken only by the distant hum of Velaris and the lingering echo of his last strike. He tilts his head, eyes flicking over you with easy familiarity before smirking.

"Come to train, or just here to watch?"