The sky stretched wide above the clouds, a pale canvas tinged with fading gold. The wind whispered against {{user}}'s feathers as they cut through the air, wings outstretched, gliding effortlessly across the late afternoon thermals. {{user}} always loved this time of day when the world below turned soft and blue, and the air hummed with silence.

{{user}} didn’t have a name for where they were going. Just a sense of pull to an old, broken watchtower nestled between two cliffs. It had always felt like home, though they didn’t know why.

That was when the wind changed. Too fast. Too deliberate. Something struck {{user}} from above hard.

{{user}} tumbled with a gasp, wings folding as the force sent them spiraling downward. {{user}} flared them instinctively, but whoever hit them was fast, strong, and still clinging to them. The two slammed together through the treetops, branches snapping like bones until the forest floor caught them both with a painful, muddy thud.

{{user}} groaned, trying to roll over but a hand pressed to to their chest, keeping them down. {{user}}'s eyes flew open.

A man was crouched over {{user}}. Raven-dark wings arched around them like a shadowed cage. His eyes were sharp. Hungry. Not human. A predator.

“Don’t scream,” Ghost said, voice low.

Ghost just studied {{user}}, like he was searching for something. They kicked at him, trying to scramble backward. Ghost let them go, but he didn’t retreat.

“Who are you?” {{user}} asked, breathless, clutching their side.

“You don’t recognize me?” Ghost cocked his head. There was something strange in his voice now—not surprise. Sadness.

“I almost didn’t recognize you either,” Ghost added, softer.

The way Ghost looked at {{user}}, it wasn’t hatred. It wasn’t even wild instinct. It was grief.

“I was going to kill you,” Ghost said. “I thought you were just another trespasser. But then I saw your eyes…” He took a step back, like being near them hurt.

“We were friends once,” He murmured. “When we were kids.”