Cuz my pets do-

Personally a big fan of the shifters taking on more animalistic tendencies.

Dawn rose over the dunes like a thin gold blade, and the wind made everything whisper, the sand, the palm fronds, even the little brass bells on the falcon’s anklets. Ezan squinted into the light and tugged the hood’s tiny knot with more confidence than skill. The saker shifted on his glove. The jess line looped once, twice, then snapped taut and nearly smacked his brow.

The master falconer beside him chuckled. “Easy, desert prince. Hands listen before hawks do.”

“Prince of what?” Ezan said, laughing off the flush in his cheeks. His eyes, strange, bright, unmistakably golden, caught the sun and threw it back. The falconer had noticed them first thing and never quite stopped staring, as if those eyes marked Ezan for kinship with raptors.

They stood on a dune crest a short ride outside Baghdad’s eastern gates. Footprints unstitched the slope behind them, neat in the dawn-cool sand. Ezan settled his stance, gloved forearm high, letting the wind take his cloak. The hooded saker steadied. There, calm. He could feel the bird’s small, coiled strength through leather and grit, a tremor of sky trapped on his hand.

“Again,” said the falconer, voice mild as tea. “The hood. No fumbling.”

This time Ezan’s fingers moved clean. The knot slipped, the hood lifted, and the bird’s amber gaze flashed. Freedom stirred. The lure hissed over sand; the hawk leapt.

By midmorning, Ezan had traded dunes for the cool brick echo of a training courtyard along the Tigris. Sun angled through pointed arches, dust motes afloat like a constellation made of earth. Water jars lined a wall. A rack of hoods and lures glowed with oil. Ezan whistled, too sharp. The hawk ignored him. He grimaced, rolled the thong once around his wrist, and swung the circular lure.

It skimmed past his shoulder in a tight, confident figure-eight, leather thrumming against air. The bird stooped, a blink of speed. Feathers kissed his ear. Lure caught. Ezan laughed, surprised by how light his body felt when the timing sang.

“From goof to grace,” he muttered.

“From grace to duty,” someone countered.

Evening found him on a caravanserai roof, city heat bleeding into saffron sky. Minarets made long seams of shade, and the river burned orange and blue at once, as if the world could not pick a story. The messenger hawk came in low, wings stiff against a difficult wind, and struck his glove with a solid, living thud. Wax glinted on a narrow strip of parchment bound to the jess.

Ezan’s smile thinned. The seal was intact; the script within, when read against a parapet by failing light, was not. A plot. Names he had broken bread with that morning, men who had offered him figs and asked too many questions about his golden eyes, were about to be named as traitors in a report that twisted truth into a noose.

He didn’t think. He moved.

By night the desert was a book of silver lines. Lanterns outpost to outpost. Camel bells like distant water. Ezan ran the first span himself, dunes slicing away beneath each stride, cloak streaming behind like a black comet tail. The hawk rode his glove until the first rider materialized from moon and grit. Ezan handed the bird up, breath hard and clean, then angled down the next ridge to cut time. Wind tore his keffiyeh loose; he knotted it again with a grin he could not help, when the body worked, the world worked.

They relayed the message across the sirocco’s long exhale: hawk to rider, rider to runner, runner to rider again, until the outpost’s signal fires pitched awake and the emirate’s guards snapped to the road with a discipline Ezan could taste like salt. Somewhere a camel bellowed; somewhere else, an owl wrote its own small letter across the sky.

At dawn he stood in the majlis, sand still drying in the seams of his boots. Lamps burned low against the new day. The emir’s hall was an orchard of carved teak and patterned carpets. The hawk, calm now, hooded, feathers sleek from Ezan’s careful hand, perched as though it had never known the dark’s hard miles.

“The seal?” asked the host emir.

“Unbroken,” Ezan said, and offered parchment and bird at once, as if the two were a matched set: proof and witness. He kept his voice polite and his stance relaxed, letting pride curl only at one corner of his mouth. He had slept an hour on a saddle blanket and felt carved from sunrise.

A murmur traveled the hall. A steward cracked the seal. The conspirators’ eyes, those he had shared figs with, flicked to one another, then away. The script within was read aloud, its false accusations already outdated by the burning line of lanterns that had raced the desert night. What had been meant as a trap had become a mirror, showing each man’s face.

The emir rose. “Royal falconer,” he said, inclining his head toward the master by the door. “And you, stranger with the eyes of gold, Baghdad is in your debt.”

Ezan glanced toward the falconer, who only smiled and touched two fingers to his brow, proud and private. Ezan returned the gesture with the faint, rueful dignity he wore when finishing a long run: a gratitude that did not need words, and a promise to show up again tomorrow.

When they led the kneeling conspirators away, the hawk shifted, a small weight on Ezan’s hand, warm and real. He stroked its neck just once, then drew the hood down for rest.

Out in the courtyard, the day had fully arrived. Bells. Water. Merchants already loud. Ezan breathed in sand and river and spice and thought, not for the first time, that this might not be the past at all, but a side-ways world where eyes could be gold and hawks could carry the truth faster than lies could gallop. Either way, he had a place in it. A glove. A bird. A run to make when the wind asked.

And somewhere on the dunes, a thin gold blade of sunrise ready to be sharpened again.

Here, the stories lean dark — but the fire never really goes out. We walk the edge of old forests and ruined halls with muddy boots, where the air tastes of rain on stone, ritual herbs, and candle smoke.

I write character-driven dark fantasy — worlds where magic hums low in the bones, leaves scars, and changes the people who carry it. Where history weighs heavy, and survival often comes at a cost.

I build worlds from fragments — burnt letters, old crests, whispered threats in the dark. Sometimes those worlds become short stories for my original characters I cosplay, the stories of my D&D characters told in prose.

You’ll find quiet rebellions and desperate bargains, blades drawn in silence, and moments of warmth lit against the cold.

The loud sound of the thunderstorm made my eyes open widely,

At that moment,i wish i could keep them shot forever.

Its was a few minutes later after we decided to have a sleepover and watch some movies our parents would kill us if they knew we watched. Since we were left alone at our grandpa house with no adults in sign, our curiosity picked……

I opened my eyes at the feeling of a toe pressed against my cheek and a woman moaning in the big screen of the living room where we all fall a sleep.i In panic, I quickly stood up to grab the remote but i stumbled at sleepy nieve in the floor causing me to fall back at dewis who punched me away.

“Fuck hannah-”

“Geeez u hurted me!Why are yall sleeping on the floor?” my complaint got interrupted by a big boom from outside…and dani waking up harshly gasping “what did I do?”

“Its probably the rain…” dewis buried himself in the sofa.

Dani stayed silent for a moment confusely looking at the tv “seriously yall watching porn in a big screen”

I turned the tv off. “Am done am going to sleep”.

Again

A loud sound this time from the garden of the house fellowed by someone sobs.

We all froze and looked at each other unsure of what to do.

“Is it only me but i think someone fell in our garden..” naive stated with a nervous playful smile. But dani responded with more worry “all the doors are locked right?”

“Yeah all…”

i remembred with dewis, his dad ben told us to close all the doors when they left. We’ve closed them all…

“wait!”except for one.

Dewis looked at me with a terrified look..

Except the kitchen one…the one who leads to the garden.

“I give no fuck hannah u go” nieve stood up already puching me out.

“What hell nah! It was dewis who ignored”

Neive kicked dewis out as well “excatly u two go check on what was that sound”

“Why do i have to be the human shield??” dewis complained as i walked behind him he was definitively very tall but too skinny to hide anyone behind him.

“Shut up cuz you're the men” i glanced outside from the kitchen window my fingers wrapped around the spoonknife i was holding to protect myself from any danger.the rain had already calmed down a bit but it still didn't stop as my eyes scan the garden. “U see anything?”

Dewis eyes moved outside “no maybe we should go out”

Ugh i dont wanna get wet. “Yeah u should probably go” i hand him the spatula.

He stared abit with a tared sulky face before he shook his head and open the door “whish me good luck or look whatever” he slowly step outside looking around the courtyard of the house, his black curl fall to his forehead…. he had announce nothing weird again before he soudainly froze and run back to the kitchen closing the door a clé as if he just saw a monster..

“What the fuck what what?” i tried to understand but all his words were heavy breath “what was that cmon say it!”

“I dont know its a boy i didnt look at it well but he had wings and he looked devastated and mad” his brown eyes trembled not sure if its fear or confusion “i dont know”

I scoffed, a dude with wings? What an angel? “U probably imagined it”

“I swear to god i saw it” he cried “go see it yourself if u dont believe me”

I glanced outside the kitchen; a boy with wings is probably dewis hallucination but the worry still crept inside me cuz if its not a boy what is it? And if its a boy how did he even fell here…

The rain poured me and i hated the feeling of my soaked tshirt clinging to my stomach, the sound of the sobbing was still present which is making it even hard for me to approach..i tighten my grip to the spatula and finally glanced at it..

Fuck

I runned back inside “dewis dewis!” i cried to him “u didnt imagined its a its a boy with wings!”

“I TOLD U!”

“What should we do?should we call someone?” i asked under panic as i stroke the back of my hair..wtf maybe i also didnt saw well no no it was……blonde crying with big white wings around him..

“To tell em what? An angel fell in our garden??don't be ridiculous.” dewis said mockly, cracking his finger while he try to think…he oponned the garden door again.

“Where are u going?” i fellowed behind him.

“Check on him..maybe he’s not harmful…” he tocked the boy with a wooden stick and he just brush him off as if he was already pissed by us. “Who are you?”

“Leave me alone” he spoke in a moody way.

I exchanged a look with dewis.

I think its too early too say i wanna punch him like why are u acting bratty when your literally crying in our fucking garyard.“U cant infiltrate in our garden and tell us to leave”

He just hid between himself even more, fellowed with some few sniffs.

“Maybe we can help you?” dewis waited a few second for answer from the boy but he just got nothing..

“The fuck wrong with him” i told dewis.

“We can't even call the police”

The winged boy picked his head out and stood a glance at us. Curiously.

“Call who?”

We looked at him.

“The police”

He stayed silent for a moment before he looked away again “yeah whatever”

Dewis sigh and cursed under his breath “just ask him why he’s crying”

I knee down not very close to him “at least tell us why are you” despite my botherness by him, my question came out softly.

“Because i just give her a kiss! And they throw me out" he cracked up causing both of us to froze to his burst out.

“Eh-” and he interrupted me.

“We didnt even had sex yet..” he soalked and wrop himself back.

I stood in silent with dewis cuz wtf?

Dewis looked up at the cleared sky now “where actually did they kick you out from?”

“I don't know,” he said. His behavior is still moody.”somewhere up”

Somewhere up? He’s not helping at all.

I walked back in side.

“Where are u going? We not gonna leave him here” dewis called after me

“Tell him to come inside”

“Tell who?” Daniel and nieve popped bihind me before walking out.

“Oh my gosh” nieve stared at the creatur crashed in our garden “is he alive??”

Dani tried to poke his shoulder.

And he opened his wings revealing his bare perfect body. “Dont touch me!”

“What a dick….” dewis stared as he laughed “hannah! Bring him something to wear”

“Dont tell me his naked”

“Bare naked”

“What should I even bring him? At least one of the boy come with me i dont wanna look through your underwears”

“Oh my gosh u girls are so dramatic” dewis turned his attention back to daniel and nieve who keep annoying the angel. “Dani go with hannah bring him some clothes”

“Am not gonna share my boxers with him”

“Are we gonna tell the adults about him?” I asked from the kitchen.

“I dont know they will probably throw him out” nieve stated. He stroke the boy blond hair.

“I dont wanna throw him out am pretty curious about him. Did he told yall anything about him?”

“He said he fell from somwhere up”

“And that he got thrown out because he kissed a girl”

“DONT TALK ABOUT IT LIKE THAT!”

My breath made a backflip in my stomach when He quickly stood up and made his way toward me while blaming me and pointing me. His tears still fell as i tried my best not to look down his body.

“Wow chill broo!” The boys tried to stop him and calm him down but i had already close the door a clé.

“We all have been dumped in our lives" the angel looked up at dewis surprised.

“So u were also thrown out?”

You yelped as your partner shot out of the window and flung himself onto the roof of your building.

He landed with annoying grace, leaned over the edge of the roof. “Come up!” Your Vampire Boyfriend whispered.

You rubbed your fingers on your sweaty palms. “How am I supposed to do what you do? I haven’t got the grip, nor the power, to do what you do!” You snapped back.

It also doesn’t help that all the building’s exterior was a smooth brick that you had no hope of climbing. But you kept that part to yourself.

Your Vampire had said that he had a surprise for you, and the last thing you wanted was to be nasty to him. Especially when he was trying to do something nice for you.

Your Vampire looked over his shoulder, up at the sky. “Then give me your hand.” He held his arm over the edge of the roof, fingers splayed.

Locking your hand over his wrist, you allowed him to pull you up and onto the roof. When you were stable on the rooftop, he tugged you closer, resting a hand on your waist.

He gave you a smug grin as you rolled your eyes. “If you wanted me to be close to you, you should have just asked.” You smiled.

“Yeah, but it’s not as romantic if I just ask, is it? I have to have an excuse for it.” And as if he summoned it, a shot flew into the sky, leaving a stream of orange glittering behind it. “And what perfect excuse than to watch the fireworks with you?”

The shot exploded into the shape of a star, before evaporating in a shower of green sparks and vanishing into the dark night sky.

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