The Aviary reeled like a body after climax.

Halo-credits littered the floor, glowing faint in the haze.

Patrons staggered in one another’s arms..
scales tangled with fur,
feathers stuck to sweat-slick skin.

The music dulled to a throb,
but echoes of Rue’s presence still pulsed in the walls.

On stage, Luma collapsed into the silks.
Her glow faint. Flickering.

Her chest heaved with every shallow breath.

Two dancers rushed in from the wings...
moth wings trembling,
harpy claws careful...
as they gathered her up.

They lifted her limp frame between them.

From the booth, Amaya’s gaze flicked once toward the stage.

Just long enough to mark the white bat being carried off.

A smirk ghosted her lips.
Dry. Knowing.

“You didn’t have to leave her like that,” she murmured.
Voice low, edged with soft amusement.

Rue said nothing.

She climbed the steps back to the booth.
Boots echoing sharp against velvet and stone.

Prism’s slit jaw still half-split.
Teeth gleaming.
Eyes bright with hunger.

Swan sat trembling.
Feathers rattling.
Beak clicking as he searched for words that would please.

Rue dropped into her seat.

Her eyes stayed locked on the floor—
where Luma’s glow trailed faintly between the dancers carrying her off.

Her voice cut cold across the table.

“Tell me what you know about the woman on that stage.”

The booth froze.

The Swan’s beak clicked.
Words tangled, feathers puffing as he scrambled.
“She’s just—just another dancer. A new face. Hardly worth—”

Prism smirked.
Slit jaw twitching.
Shark teeth flashing.

She leaned back casual, tail thumping once against the cushions.
The holo on her wrist flickered to life with a swipe of her claws.

Lines of data spilled across the air between them.
Contracts. Dates. Transaction codes glowing bright.

The Swan’s feathers rattled.
His smile cracked.

“H-how did you—those files are sealed. You can’t—”

Prism’s grin widened, eyes gleaming neon.
“Please.”
Her voice dripped salt and static.
“I was born swimming through locked gates. You think a birdcage keeps me out?”

She flicked her tail, scrolling the feed faster.
Then froze it.

One line glowed brighter than the rest.

Subject: Chiroptera.
Status: Registered.
Contract: Paid in full.
Date: days after Rue had pulled her out of Spice’s cage.

Rue didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the line of code like it had teeth.

Prism’s smirk dimmed, jaw twitching once.

Amaya finally set her tea aside.
Her voice was low.
Measured.
Steel in silk.

“How much.”

The Swan blinked, feathers flaring as he leaned forward, desperate.
“You—you want her? Yes, yes, of course, we can negotiate. I can draft a new contract tonight. Exclusive rights, premium tier—”

His beak clicked fast, drowning himself in numbers.
Not realizing the mistake he’d made.

The dressing quarters smelled of perfume and sweat.
Silks piled high in baskets.
Wing-powder glittered faint across mirrors.

Two dancers eased Luma down onto the bench.

They fussed with her hair.
With her wings.

Her glow still flickered weakly under her fur.
Her chest rose sharp with shallow breaths.

“Who was that?” one whispered, eyes wide.

“Some patron,” another breathed, cheeks flushed.
“Had to be rich as a lord to shut the whole Aviary down like that…”

“They didn’t even announce a name,” a third muttered.
Shaking her head.

“Whoever he is, I’ve never seen anyone command a floor like that.”

No one questioned he.
Not one of them imagined the truth.

Nyra pushed through the cluster at last.
Violet wings brushed soft against Luma’s shoulder as she knelt in front of her.

She slipped a robe around her carefully.
Tied the sash with gentle hands.

Her antennae quivered,
catching every tremor in Luma’s aura.

“Careful, Little Glow,” she murmured, voice hushed.
“Burn too bright, and you’ll break.”

The nickname caught in Luma’s chest like a thread pulled too tight.

She forced a smile, though her hands trembled against the fabric.

Nyra squeezed her fingers once.
Grounding her.

Then stood.
Wings folding back into place.

For a heartbeat, she almost said more.
Her mouth opened.
Wings twitched.

But she swallowed it.
Dropped her eyes.

Her silence heavier than words.

The door creaked.
Every voice fell silent.

The Swan entered with a tray of wine and fruit balanced perfectly in his hands.

His feathers gleamed.
His smile velvet.

But his eyes...
sharp, greedy, gleaming....
scratched at the back of Luma’s memory.

She had seen eyes like that before.

But where?

The thought slipped away before she could catch it.
Only the ache in her chest
and the knot in her stomach remained.

He set the tray down.
His gaze never left her.

“A performance like that,” he crooned.
“Deserves reward.”

Luma swallowed.
Her hands tightened in her robe.

“Am… am I being fired?”

The Swan’s smile widened.
Smooth. Terrible.

He brushed a grape between his fingers like a jewel.

“No, little bat. Promoted.
You belong higher than the floor now.

Meet me in my office in forty-five minutes.”

He turned.
Feathers sweeping behind him.

And left.

The door clicked shut.

Silence clung for a breath—
then the whispers sharpened.

“Don’t drink anything he offers.”
“Keep your eyes down.”
“Never be alone with him.”

Nyra squeezed her hand again.
Antennae trembling.

“Be careful, Little Glow.”

The words clung tighter than the robe.

Later, alone in the corridor,
Luma’s bare feet sank into velvet runners.

The lamps glowed low, feather-shaped sconces painting shadows across the hush.

Every step echoed too loud.
Bounced back at her from the walls.

Her heart beat hard against her ribs.
Her glow shivered faint across her fur.

The warnings looped with every pace.

Don’t drink. Don’t look. Don’t be alone.

And still, she walked.

The hall stretched longer than it had ever been.
The air heavier.

She could almost taste the weight of halo-credits in it.
Thick. Choking.

Far away, the holo shimmered in Silk Trigger’s comm room.

“Told you I could tag him,” Prism purred.

Rue didn’t answer. Arms crossed, she stood rooted, eyes locked on the trembling white bat in the corner of the feed.

The Swan crooned low, smooth as old wine

Swan’s lacquered feathers gleamed as he leaned in with that velvet smile.
A tray of halo-credits, wine, and fruit glowed on the table beside him.

Luma sat half-wrapped in a robe.
Her glow flickered faint beneath her fur.

Her wings curled tight.
She looked down.
Quiet.

Eyes wide in practiced fear.

The Swan crooned low, smooth as old wine.

“No, little bat. Not fired… promoted.

I’ve arranged a suite for you.
Next to Nyra.

Meet me in my office in forty-five minutes,
and we’ll discuss your future.”

He brushed a grape between his claws like it was a jewel.

Luma flinched.
Her lips parted.
But no words came.

Rue’s jaw tightened as she watched the screen.

That look in Luma’s eyes...
quiet fear,
wide and waiting,
body shrinking smaller instead of fighting back.

It wasn’t the Aviary anymore.

It was the rafters.

Dust and mildew.
Thin blankets strung up to mark sleeping corners.
The reek of too many bodies pressed into too little space.

Rue, sixteen.
Bruised and bleeding.
Shaggy hair falling into her eyes.
Knuckles raw from fighting.
Breath ragged.

Above her, in the rafters—
a younger Luma curled into herself.

Thirteen.
Eyes wide.
Trembling.
Too small.
Too quiet.

The rafters creaked above her,
dust falling with every shift of the girl’s trembling wings.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Other small shapes hid higher still—
kestrels clinging to beams,
sparrows pressed into shadowed ledges,
a raven hunched in silence.

All of them children.
All of them roosting where instinct drove them,
too afraid to come down.

Shadows swallowed their frames,
but their eyes glowed faint in the dark—
fear catching light like glass.

Rue rasped through swollen lips.
Voice rough.
Raw from shouting.

“It’s over, Moonlight.
You can come down now.”

The girl didn’t move at first.
Just stared at her with that same look.

Quiet fear.
Waiting for it to pass.

Rue clenched her fists.
Looked up again.

“Your garden’s safe.

Don’t let them take it from you.”

The memory shattered like glass.

Rue’s chair screeched against the floor.
She shoved away from the table.

Shadows didn’t lash this time—
they only coiled tight around her shoulders,
clinging like a second skin.

The air in the comm room dropped cold.

Prism blinked, her grin faltering as her tail stilled.
“…What the hell’s got her so pissed? We’ve seen worse than Swan.”

Her slit jaw twitched, teeth clicking as if to reclaim bravado—
but even she didn’t move to follow.

Amaya’s gaze stayed steady on Rue.
Her hand rested light on her cup,
eyes narrowing, sharp with recognition.

She let out a slow breath, smirk ghosting faint at her lips.
“…Not like this.”

Rue didn’t wait.

The door slammed behind her as she stormed out,
boots echoing like thunder down the base’s halls.

Rue stood on the observation balcony of the Agency’s sector base.
Below, the training fields stretched wide—
rings of sand, elevated platforms, aerial scaffolds hung with violet lamps.

Twilight painted the grounds in steel and shadow as the nocturnal squads began their drills.
Wings snapped open in formation.
Scaled bodies clashed in rhythmic precision.
Antlers lowered against blades, sparks flashing off steel.
Every motion ordered, disciplined, nothing like the chaos of Swan’s Aviary.

Amaya’s steps were soundless as she joined her.
She carried a steaming cup between steady hands.

Without a word, she offered it.
Rue took it, the porcelain warm against her palms.

The tea was faintly floral, grounding, touched with spice.
She sipped once.
Didn’t want to admit it;
but whatever Amaya blended into her teas,
were always calming.

Amaya rested her elbows on the balcony rail, eyes fixed on the drills.
Her voice was calm, even.

“The mission hasn’t changed.
Swan is a threat.
We gather intel on his dealings,
measure the weight of his bid for a Council seat,
and strike if needed.

"But.”
She tilted her head toward Rue, gaze sharp as steel.
“What do you want to do now?”

Rue let the tea linger warm in her throat.
Her eyes followed the squads as they split and re-formed,
a black ribbon weaving itself over and over through the training fields.

Her silence was deliberate.
Commanding.

And Amaya;
Amaya knew that silence better than anyone.