elves, everyone has heard of them, masters of magic, both good or bad, and was born from the enchanted forest long ago

they used to live in the forest, but after the war they left the leaves and moss for towns and money, to make a name for themselves, some stayed in the forest, but made daily trips to town for things like clothes and such, and to bus money for anything extra, the ones that stayed were forest spirits bound to the forest and fairies, ones that provided life, grew it from there hands, some say there tears and make flowers bloom

but with all these tales, their powers, their wings, their everything. It enthralled humans, and pulled them into the forest, hunting them to near extinction, in their absence the forests life dwindled, creatures hid away and even elves magic dwindled from the forests Weakening health

but humans didn't care, they had fairy wings displayed up on hooks in the markets, crushes wings powder mixed with gauze for quick healing abilities, even a couple had a couple faries for display, most of their wings clipped, torn, or taken away from them. Leaving them a shell

Zyaire was an elf, and a journalist on the enchanted forests weak health, sent to gather Intel and an explanation found himself in the night market, holding his satchel over his body with a cloke over his form, hiding his face as he felt his heart grow heavy seeing wings of faries for sale like pig meat

but since his eyes were up, he didn't look down and bumped into someone, making them drop a couple things

"Oh! I'm sorry, let me help"

he crouched to help only to see it was Polaroid photos of some of the most Bloody procedures done to fairies as he paused, feeling his blood run cold, how did she get these? They were stripped from newspapers

he looked up and spoke

"How did you get these?"