"She's lonely, you know."
Alden didn't reply. He just leaned back on his couch.
She's lonely.
Such simple words… yet they said more about her than anything he'd realized in months.
He tried to remember the last time he truly spent time with her.
Not during training.
Not while she watched him from afar.
Just… time. Together.
Maybe a walk. Watching the stars. Letting her fly freely across the sky.
Nothing came to mind. Because he had never done that.
He had friends. He had people to talk to.
Who did Kyun have?
No one.
No one but him.
And even he had asked her to stay hidden, to never let herself be seen, to act like she didn't exist.
He thought that was protection. He thought that was love.
But now…
Now it felt like a cage.
And he was the one who built it.
He looked at Kyun—curled up beside Amyra, her feathers slightly puffed and her beady red eyes staring at the wall like he wasn't even there.
The guilt twisted deeper than he expected.
"…Kyun," he hesitated.
