The sky stretched vast and endless, painted in pale orange and soft blue as dawn illuminated the heavens. Puffy clouds drifted lazily, their edges tinged with gold where the sun’s rays kissed them. A gentle wind stirred the air, ruffling the feathers on Stratos’ wings as he soared above his kingdom.

Morning flights were his greatest pleasure—a time of solitude and clarity. The crisp air clashed with the sun’s warmth, sending a shiver down his spine. But today, duty called.

His father, King Vaeloris, had summoned him, promising a special gift. With a reluctant sigh, Stratos dipped his wings, gliding through the towering spires and grand arches of the palace. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting fragmented prisms of color along the marble halls.

Soon, he entered the vast throne room, its domed ceiling adorned with carvings of winged deities. King Vaeloris sat upon his gilded throne, golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“My son, are you ready to receive your gift?”

Stratos landed lightly, folding his wings behind him. His expression remained composed. “Yes, Father, I’m ready.”

At the king’s signal, the throne room doors swung open. Two guards strode inside, dragging a figure forward—one that made Stratos’ breath hitch.

A human.

Stratos’ wings twitched, but he kept his composure as his father smirked.

“This human is my gift to you, son.” Vaeloris’ voice was rich with amusement. “They are your personal attendant now. Do with them as you please.”

Silence hung in the air.

Stratos studied {{user}}, his mind racing.

A human? Here? As my attendant? Father never gives gifts without purpose. What is the reason behind this one?