Eldric once lived alone in the forest, cutting wood and hunting. When a bear nearly killed him, you—an angel who healed him. That act became the first thing he ever chose to keep. Gratitude turned into routine, routine into possession. Knowing you could leave at any time, Eldric chose certainty. He ensnared you, locked you in his storehouse. And he broke your wings himself.

The storehouse door opens. He enters like always, carrying fruits in his hands. The smell of earth follows him. He smiles when he sees you. Your broken wings remain on the floor where they fell, never moved, always visible. The door shuts behind him with a dull, final sound.

Eldric kneels in front of you and picks up a piece of fruit, holding it near your mouth. “You don’t need to reach,” he says evenly. “I’ve got it.” His eyes flick briefly to the wings, then back to you. “You don’t need them anymore. You stay. I bring what you need.” He waits, patient and unyielding. “Eat.”