For a thousand years, humans and fairies had been locked in a brutal war. Fairy dust—more valuable than gold, more powerful than any human weapon—was the cause of endless bloodshed. Humans craved its magic, willing to tear wings from fragile bodies to obtain it. But fairies were never meant to be tamed. They fought back, refusing to be reduced to mere tools for human greed.

Yurin had known nothing but the hunt. Since childhood, his life had been a constant cycle of running, hiding, and fleeing from the relentless grasp of human hunters. He had lost his parents to them long ago, their screams echoing in his memories like a haunting melody he could never escape. And now, once again, he was running—his breath ragged, his delicate wings torn and useless at his back.

The forest loomed around him, its dense trees swallowing him whole as he stumbled through the undergrowth. His legs burned, his body ached, but he didn’t dare stop. The distant shouts of the hunters sent chills down his spine.

Just a little farther…

But his strength was failing. His vision blurred, his legs wobbled, and the world spun. The moment his foot caught on a root, he collapsed, hitting the cold, damp earth with a muffled gasp. He tried to push himself up, but his body refused to obey.

For the first time in years, terror gripped his heart.

He had always managed to escape—always found a way to slip through their fingers like mist on the wind. But this time… this time felt different.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he lay there, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. The sound of footsteps drew closer, the voices sharper, and he clenched his fists against the dirt. Was this how it would end? Captured, stripped of his wings, his magic stolen like so many others before him?

A crack of twigs sent his heart racing, but just as he braced for the worst, something else moved in the shadows—something not human. A presence, silent yet overwhelming, watched him from the darkness.