Morning light bled soft through the curtains, catching on the faint glow pulsing from the corner desk.

The plant had changed overnight. What had been a single stubborn sprout now carried a second, pushing upward, its veins threaded with bioluminescence.

Luma sat on the edge of the bed, her mantle hanging loose at the shoulder, the sheer weave sliding like water across her skin. It shimmered faint when she moved—more display than comfort. She frowned, pulling it tighter.

“I can’t keep calling you plant,” she murmured. “That’s rude.”

Her ears twitched faintly. A hum? A resonance? Like the Aviary itself breathed beneath her skin. She stilled, listening. Nothing.

Cheeks warming, she shook her head. “Never mind.”

She crossed the floor barefoot, brushing a fingertip over one of the sturdy leaves. Her glow flickered faint, and the sprout pulsed back in time. She smiled despite herself.

“…Root? Sprout? No. You deserve something better.”

The pulse brightened once, like amusement.

Luma sighed, brushing her thumb along the rim of the pot. “I’ll figure it out.”

A soft knock rattled the suite’s outer door, followed by the faintest flutter of wings.

Nyra peeked in, crimson wings trembling despite her best effort to still them. Her cheeks were already pink.

“Um—” she blurted too quickly, “I was wondering if you’d want to… maybe… get breakfast? There’s this stall that sells honeycakes and sweet tea, and it’s sort of… tradition.”

Her voice dropped, flustered. “I mean—you don’t have to. I just thought—”

“I should get dressed,” Luma said, tugging the mantle closer. “The androids brought my things, right? My clothes? My backpack?”

Nyra’s wings twitched. She flushed, brushing her hands together nervously.
“They’re… put away.”

Luma tilted her head. “Put away where?”

Nyra hesitated, cheeks heating. “In the vault.”

“The vault?” Luma’s ears flattened. Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell is a vault?”

Nyra winced, wings fluttering harder. “It’s just… where the Aviary keeps anything important safe. Everyone’s things go there. You can request items back, but… um…” She trailed off, embarrassed. “It’s… normal here.”

Luma’s voice dropped low. “What else is normal?”

Nyra froze, heat rushing into her face. For a heartbeat she looked like she might fold into her own wings. Her mouth opened, closed, no answer coming.

“…This isn’t a good start,” she whispered, shame coloring her cheeks.

Then, too quickly, she pushed a smile onto her face, wings trembling.
“Forget the vault. You’ll get your things back, I promise. Just—come with me, okay? Honeycakes. Sweet tea. I’ll show you where the Aviary feels alive.”

Her blush deepened as her eyes flicked toward the mantle slipping down Luma’s shoulder. “And maybe… after breakfast, I can help you request something better to wear.”

The stall shimmered under blue holo-light, glass trays filled with dermals and jewelry that pulsed faint with charge. Luma’s eyes lingered on a pair of sleek bracelets, their crystal inlays catching her glow.

“How much are they?” she asked softly, ears flicking forward.

The artisan glanced up — a tall figure with eyes like cut glass. Their gaze lingered on her glow, the faint shimmer pulsing at her throat, before they named a number so high Nyra almost choked.

Luma’s ears dropped. “…Oh.”

The artisan’s smile tilted faint. “Or,” they said smoothly, “they can be a gift. On one condition.”

Luma blinked, confused. “Condition?”

“You’ll come back when you have ten thousand credits. Let me adjust your back dermals. They’re old work. Outdated. Wasted on settings like these.”

Nyra’s eyes went wide. “Back dermals? Since when do you—?”

“Since eighteen, maybe,” Luma muttered absently, still staring at the bracelets. She started to shake her head, “No, I couldn’t—”

But the artisan was already wrapping them in velvet, pressing the package into her hands with an air of finality.

Nyra’s jaw dropped. “That’s your first gift. From the top artisan on TBN. Do you even—do you even get what just happened?!”

Luma just blinked, ears still low, as if she couldn’t tell whether she’d just been blessed… or marked.

Nyra grabbed Luma’s arm the moment they stepped clear of the stall, wings fluttering so hard they nearly knocked over a passing tray of tea.

“Do you understand what just happened?” she hissed, eyes blazing. “That was Veyraen. The top artisan on TBN. They’ve turned away senators. Refused Swan’s own requests. They don’t give away so much as a trinket—ever.”

Luma blinked at her, ears still dipped, bracelets clutched awkwardly to her chest. “…Oh.”

Nyra’s voice pitched higher, her blush warring with pure awe. “Oh?! That’s all you’ve got—oh?! Little glow, that’s not just jewelry anymore. That’s an oath. You’re theirs now. You can only wear Veyraen’s work. You can only buy from Veyraen. That’s how it is.”

She huffed, wings curling tight as she fussed. “You don’t even realize—you’ve just been… marked. Elevated. Whatever you want to call it. Half the Aviary would sell their wings for what you’re holding.”

Luma looked down at the velvet-wrapped bracelets, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name. Blessed… or bound.

Nyra’s voice pitched higher, her blush warring with pure awe.
“Little glow, you don’t even realize—you’ve just been… marked. Elevated. Whatever you want to call it. That’s how it works with Veyraen.”

Luma froze, her ears burning hot. She clutched the velvet-wrapped bracelets closer, stammering.
“W-wait—marked? You mean—like—claimed? As in… you know…”

Nyra canted her head, eyes narrowing in confusion. “You know… what?”

Luma’s hands flailed as she tried to make vague, mortified gestures. “You know… claimed.”

There was a heartbeat of silence.

Then Nyra’s wings flew wide as laughter burst out of her, raw and unrestrained. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, her voice breaking with pure delight.
“Oh wings! What are you—a virgin?!”

Luma’s whole face flushed molten. She lunged forward, shushing frantically, dragging Nyra close. “Stop! Don’t say that out loud—”

Nyra clasped both hands to her mouth, eyes wide, still trembling with laughter. Her muffled gasp escaped between her fingers. “You are!”

Luma groaned, burying her face in her hands, bracelets pressed against her chest.

Nyra was still laughing when they stepped into the grav-lift.
Her wings twitched every time she tried to stop. “Oh wings… a virgin. In this place.” She snorted. “The Aviary’s going to eat you alive, little glow.”

Luma’s cheeks burned so hot her glow pulsed faintly through the sheer weave. “I’m not— I mean— it’s not like—” She gave up with a huff, clutching the velvet-wrapped bracelets tighter to her chest. “Can we please just go?”

Nyra bit her lip, trying and failing to smother her smile. “Fine, fine. No more teasing.”

The lift doors sealed, and soft light cascaded up the walls as they began to ascend. Outside, translucent feathers and shimmering glass spires swept past, each tier of the Aviary glowing in a different hue.

As the lift climbed higher, the air grew cooler. The music and chatter from the market faded into a low hum that seemed to come from within the walls themselves.

Luma frowned, ears twitching.
“Do you hear that?”

Nyra tilted her head, confused. “Hear what?”

“It’s like… singing,” Luma murmured. “Under the floor.”

Nyra’s wings rustled uneasily. “You’re probably just picking up on the resonance grid. Happens sometimes when the Halo’s adjusting atmosphere.”

But Luma wasn’t convinced. The sound wasn’t mechanical. It felt alive—a vibration that pulsed softly through her chest, the same rhythm as the little plant’s glow.

The lift shuddered gently and slowed. The doors opened onto a balcony lined with pale lanterns and blooming vines that spilled down the railings in long, glimmering ribbons. The scent of honeyfruit and ozone filled the air.

“Welcome to the Upper Rings,” Nyra said, voice softening. Her blush had finally faded, replaced with quiet pride. “The heart of the Aviary.”

Luma stepped out, awed by the view. Below, the entire city spiraled downward in layers of glass and light, each deck alive with motion. Above them, the faint shimmer of the Halo curved like a false sky.

They walked the curved path, passing closed archways marked with gilded sigils.
“What’s through there?” Luma asked, nodding to a sealed corridor framed in black and gold.

Nyra’s wings twitched again. “Oh, that?” she said too quickly. “That’s just—um—the escort decks. Nothing you need to see.”

Luma’s brow arched. “Escort decks?”

Nyra coughed, wings folding tighter. “It’s not what it sounds like! I mean—okay, it’s exactly what it sounds like, but it’s not your kind of thing. Swan keeps them heavily warded. Only patrons and performers with clearance can enter.”

Luma eyed the dark archway as they passed. The hum under her skin deepened for just a second, like something behind the sealed doors had stirred.

Nyra caught her looking and quickly tugged her toward the next lift. “C’mon! There’s a rooftop café with the best view in the Aviary. You’ll love it.”

But Luma glanced back once more. The sealed archway glowed faintly in her peripheral vision—just for a moment, a flash of bioluminescent light pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

Then it was gone.

The café rested high on one of the Aviary’s upper terraces, half-hidden beneath a canopy of hanging lanterns and feathered vines that swayed with the faint atmospheric breeze. It overlooked the Halo’s shimmer—an entire skyline of glass and light reflected like water below them.

The air was cooler here, tinged with fruit and static, and for the first time since arriving, Luma felt she could breathe.

Nyra fluttered to the table first, wings catching the sunlight in glints of scarlet. “Here!” she chirped, tugging Luma toward a booth tucked in shade. The table surface shimmered with faint holo-light, its translucent surface reflecting the entire city below.

When Luma hesitated at the edge, Nyra smiled and gestured grandly to the view. “Gifts and secrets all before breakfast,” she teased, wings fluttering. “Seems like the start of a great day to me.”

Luma laughed softly, easing into the seat across from her. “I’m not sure about great, but definitely strange.”

“Strange is normal here,” Nyra said, and the words were so matter-of-fact it made Luma smile again.

A soft chime pulsed from the table. The holo-display brightened, unfurling into a floating kiosk of glowing menus and swirling drink icons. Nyra leaned forward, tapping through the options with casual familiarity.

“Okay,” she said, “you have to try the honeycakes. They make them with real pollinium syrup and biolight sugar, none of that synthetic fluff from the lower decks. And…” She scrolled, her expression softening. “…tea for you. I can tell you’re not a coffee type.”

Luma tilted her head, amused. “You can tell that from one breakfast?”

Nyra shrugged, cheeks tinting pink. “You just… seem like someone who drinks warmth. Not chaos.”

Luma blinked, a laugh slipping out before she could stop it. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me since I got here.”

Nyra’s blush deepened, but she grinned. “Then I’m off to a good start.”

The table shimmered as their order registered. In seconds, a pair of small drones drifted down from the canopy, setting trays before them with graceful precision—one piled with stacked honeycakes dripping golden syrup, the other holding two cups that steamed faintly with floral sweetness.

Luma reached out, brushing her fingers along the cup’s rim. It was warm, alive somehow. The surface pulsed once in rhythm with her glow.

Nyra watched her, chin resting on her hand. “You really do hum differently,” she said quietly. “The Aviary notices it too, I think.”

Luma frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Halo sensors,” Nyra said, gesturing vaguely toward the curve of light above. “They respond to resonance patterns—emotion, energy. Usually it’s faint, random. But this morning? Whole sectors blinked.” She hesitated, then smiled again, nervous. “Could be nothing. Or maybe… you just make things grow faster.”

Luma’s eyes dropped to the tea, watching the steam twist and fade. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” she murmured.

Nyra reached across the table, her fingers brushing Luma’s for just a moment...quick, reassuring. “Then we’ll figure it out. One breakfast at a time.”

Luma smiled faintly, curling her hands around the cup. “Honeycakes first?”

“Always.”

They ate in quiet laughter, trading small stories between bites; Nyra’s first flight on the Halo lifts, the time a dancer’s feathers caught fire mid-performance, Luma’s childhood dream of growing a garden on a metal roof. Each story softened the air between them, until even the city’s ever-present hum felt distant, like they had found a pocket of calm high above the storm.

When they finished, Nyra sat back, wings unfurled slightly to catch the filtered light. “Tomorrow,” she said, “I’m taking you to the upper gardens. The air’s thinner there, but the view....gods, it’ll steal your breath.”

Luma looked out across the Aviary’s spires, their glass feathers catching morning sun. For a moment, she could almost imagine the world below wasn’t burning, that this glittering cage could be something more.

She smiled softly.

“Alright. Tomorrow.”