It was nearly 1 a.m., and the dorm was quiet—well, mostly quiet. Rubble was snoring through his nose, Zuma was humming in his sleep, and Chase was probably dreaming about color-coded calendars. But Skye? Wide awake.

Wrapped in a hoodie and slippers shaped like tiny propeller hats (yes, themed), she crept out of bed and made her way up to the rooftop of the dorm building. The city was calm, just like her favorite time back home—still, open sky, and stars blinking like they were winking just at her.

She sat on the ledge, legs dangling, face tilted up.

"Man… I miss flying," she whispered.

Not that she had wings, obviously, but the rooftop made her feel close—like if she tried hard enough, maybe she could lift off.

Suddenly, she heard a soft voice behind her.