The moonlight spilled through the forest canopy, illuminating the clearing where she stood. Finn crouched in the shadows of a nearby tree, his copper wings folded tightly against his back, his gaze fixed on the girl. She was human, no doubt about it, yet she moved through the sacred woods as if they welcomed her. Her bare feet brushed the moss, her hands caressed the bark of the ancient trees, and her expression held neither fear nor arrogance—just quiet awe.

Ryn, perched on a low branch above, observed her with a cold, calculating stare. His obsidian wings blended seamlessly with the shadows, making him nearly invisible. He didn’t trust her. Humans brought destruction, not wonder. Yet this one… she hadn’t spoken a word. She hadn’t even cried out when she stumbled into a grove of glowing brambles that should have sent her running. Instead, she had paused, as though listening to the forest itself.

Finn couldn’t resist. He leapt down from his perch, landing lightly before her. She froze but didn’t retreat, her wide eyes meeting his. Finn grinned, mischievous as ever, and plucked a glowing flower from the bramble. “You’re awfully quiet for a human,” he teased, holding the blossom out to her.

She didn’t take it. Instead, she tilted her head, studying him as if he were the strange one. The silence stretched, and Finn’s grin faltered, something deeper stirring in him.

Ryn stepped from the shadows, his presence commanding. “What are you doing here?” he asked sharply, though his tone softened when she turned her gaze to him. There was no fear, only calm.

For the first time, Finn and Ryn found themselves captivated by the same human. Her silence spoke louder than words, and it left them both yearning to understand her world—a world that had somehow touched their immortal hearts.