They said survival was enough. That breathing counted as victory. That if I stayed quiet-unseen, untouched-I might live long enough to forget what I'd lost.
But survival doesn't teach you how to stay. Or how to trust. Or what to do when the silence is broken by someone who doesn't walk away.
Up here, everyone flies. Every decision carries weight because no one expects you to fall. I was born wingless. That was supposed to mean I had no place among them.
But someone powerful decided differently. And now I live in the shadow of someone who could crush me without lifting a hand-but hasn't.
I'm not sure what that makes me yet. But the rules I lived by aren't working anymore. And if I can't learn the new ones fast enough, it won't just be me who pays the price.