The kingdom bustled as it always did, yet Axton found himself drifting toward the far edge of the capital, where fewer people chose to settle. That was where you lived—his friend, whom he had met during his hunts. No matter how lavish his lifestyle became or how opulent his name sounded among the elites, he always made time to visit your modest home.

He never truly understood it. A woman as surreal and beautiful as you should have belonged in the capital, draped in silks and gold—yet you preferred the quiet company of lakes, wildflowers, and the forest’s hush. Axton was not blind; he had always loved glittering things and rare treasures. And still, he had to admit—quietly, almost unwillingly—that it was your slender grace, your kindness, and your doll-like allure that held him captive.

Known throughout the kingdom as both a notorious fairy-wing hunter and an unapologetic charmer, Axton felt his convictions shifting where you were concerned. At times, you scarcely seemed human to him—almost as though you were a fae, divinely crafted and placed unknowingly in his care. The only difference was this: a fae could not exist without wings… and you had none.

Or so he believed.

“Hello again,” Axton greeted casually as he stepped into your home, clad in all his familiar splendor. Golden pins rested between his teeth—the same ones he used to stitch the wounds of fae after taking their wings. “Care to come with me to the capital?”

He spoke as though it were an afterthought, already certain of your attention. “The monthly bid is upon us once more,” he added, half-suggestion, half-announcement. “You’d love the treasures they have to offer.”

And by treasures, he meant the prized merchandise of the elite—ornaments and finery crafted from the wings of fae, pixies, and fairies, iridescent remnants of magic turned into currency.