In this world, wings were as ordinary as hands.

Humanity had never known itself without feathers: cities were built with rooftop perches and open-air walkways, traffic flowed in three dimensions, and the sound of wingbeats was as common as footsteps. Avian traits varied—hawks and doves, corvids and gulls—but everyone shared the same skeletal truth: hollow bones, flight-capable frames, and instincts that never quite went away.

A raven avian by birth, Simon was tall with broad and ink-black wings. Ravens were known for memory, pattern recognition, and endurance—traits that clung to corvids. Simon was no different. Cataloguing behaviour, mapping routes, remembering what others forgot.

They say a raven never forgets a face.

Stereotypes weren't uncommon among different avian subspecies. Corvids were your lone wolves; the watchers. Raptors were loud and abrasive, but strong. Songbirds were gentle and kindhearted. No matter what kind of avian you were, there was always a reputation behind your wings.