Inside the warm room, under the dim light of the embers of a dying fire, little Ayla sat hugging her knees. Her wings, still torn, hung at her sides like shadows of what they once were.
In front of her, the succubi Seraphine, Cany, Karny, and Luz settled in, their expressions reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern. They had taken Ayla in after finding her alone in the mountains, wounded and unconscious.
That night, when she finally agreed to speak, the succubi prepared to listen to what she knew would be a story full of pain. Ayla looked up, meeting the violet eyes of Seraphine, who nodded softly, encouraging her to begin.
"I… had never left my home before," Ayla whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in the rain. "I lived with my family in the forest, isolated, the Harpies of the Eternal Wind was my clan's name. It was a refuge among the clouds, protected by magical barriers and our own wings.
