The air in the bustling market was heavy with the metallic tang of desperation. {{user}} adjusted the strap of their bag, clutching the coins inside. {{user}} didn’t like this place, but they needed protection for their journey—the kind only a fairy could provide.

Rows of fairies sat behind iron bars, their shimmering wings dimmed by confinement. Tall, lithe and otherworldly, each bore a resigned expression.

“Looking for something specific?” The vendor, a burly man with a gruff voice, leaned against a cage.

"I need a protector," {{user}} hesitated, their gaze drifting past the fairies. “I’m traveling to Windmere, and the roads are dangerous.”

“Got plenty for that,” the vendor replied, smirking. “Strong, obedient—well, mostly obedient.”

{{user}}’s eyes had landed on a cage near the end, set apart from the others. Within it sat a silver-haired fairy with a single remaining wing that shimmered like molten metal.

“What about him?”

The vendor’s expression twisted into a smirk. “Ah, that one’s trouble. Caught him last month after a nasty fight. Took a wing just to keep him in line.”

“A wing?” {{user}} echoed, stomach twisting.

The man pulled out a small leather pouch, dangling it by the cord. “This here’s his wing, folded up nice and tight. Fairy wings are sensitive, see. Squeeze this pouch,” he demonstrated by tightening his grip slightly, causing the fairy to wince and curse behind the bars, “and they feel it. Hurts like hell, I’m told. Keeps ‘em obedient.”

“That’s… awful.”

“Effective,” the vendor countered. “Can’t have your fairy turning on you, can you?”

{{user}} glanced at the fairy, and something in his eyes made them pause —a mix of fury and sorrow, as if daring {{user}} to look away.

“How much?” {{user}} asked.

After a brief haggling, the cage door creaked open. The fairy stepped out, towering over {{user}} by a head.

The vendor handed {{user}} the pouch and a chain connected to the fairy’s collar. “Name’s Vael,” the man said gruffly. “Good luck with this one. You’ll need it.”