Challe sat in his cage, his back against the cold stone wall with his legs chained to the wall. For 70 long, cruel years he’d been forced to work for those filthy humans. The ones who threatened him with his own damn wing. The ones that had killed those he cared for most. He hated them, all of them. Humans were just useless little worms to him — nothing more.

“Well, if you’re looking for a stronger one, I have something you might like.” The all too familiar sound of one of his captor’s voices grew close. What was he, an object up for trade? In fact, that’s definitely what they thought of him.

“He’s a fierce one, but he’s the strongest thing we got.” The short and stout man grinned impishly, banging on the bars of the cage. Challe remained still against the farthest wall, his obsidian eyes narrowing at the sight of a new face. No doubt a human one.