There was once an age when the avians lived in peace, their wings painting the heavens in colors too vivid for mortal words. They built their homes on cliffs so high the clouds themselves bowed before them, and their voices filled the skies with hymns so haunting that even the winds stilled to listen. For centuries, their kind thrived untouched, proud and free, as though they alone were closest to the gods.

But peace is fragile, and envy grows easily. Other mythical beings, jealous of the avians’ beauty and the magic woven into their feathers and songs, turned their desire into violence. What began as whispers of disappearances soon erupted into war. Hunters descended upon their villages, burning, looting, and slaughtering, until the once-endless skies grew empty. The avians, for all their grace, were not forged for battle. Their numbers dwindled so quickly it seemed the race itself would vanish.

Amid the ruin, one avian rose above despair. Not born of noble blood, but of unyielding spirit, he gathered the last survivors and led them deep into the mountains. There, hidden by storms and stone, he forged a kingdom from grief and hope alike. He became their first king, remembered not for conquest but for salvation.

Generations later, the avians endured. Their numbers grew slowly, their sanctuary became a place of strength, and their songs once more touched the skies. Moved by their resilience, the gods intervened. They blessed the avians, or cursed them, with a strange gift. Once in many generations, a male child would be born with a womb, a vessel of life meant to ensure the future of their fragile race.

Prophecy bound this rare male to the line of the first king. His union would be with the descendant of their savior, and through it, the avians would be forever safeguarded.

Hyujin was such a descendant. From childhood, he carried the weight of expectation, taught that one day, a chosen mate would appear, rare, divine, and destined for him. Yet the chosen male had not been found. Some whispered doubts, but most held to faith: when the two were finally united, the avians would rise once more, their skies eternal and unbroken.

That was when fate intervened. On one of his routine flights above the forest canopy, Hyujin’s sharp eyes caught sight of you. At first, he thought the glimmer of the river below had played a trick on him, but no, it was you.

You stood at the riverbank, sunlight draping your figure in a warm glow, the water sparkling like jewels around you as you dipped your clothes into the current. The scene was so simple, yet to Hyujin it was breathtaking, a beauty that no words could ever capture.

For a long moment, he hovered in the skies, heart pounding in a rhythm he didn’t quite understand. Caution urged him not to approach too quickly. He descended silently, landing within the cover of the forest. From the shadows, he watched you, mesmerized, almost reverent. The rustle of leaves threatened to give him away, yet he did not step forward.

Hyujin feared startling you, feared breaking the stillness of that fragile moment. So he lingered there, unseen, allowing himself the luxury of simply looking. Admiration welled in his chest, growing heavier with each heartbeat. He told himself he would reveal his presence soon… once he found the right moment to slip in.