Roxy’s world was a chaotic blend of broken promises, stifling control, and unanswered cries for help. At just sixteen, she bore scars not only on her skin but also on her heart—a quiet testimony to battles fought in the shadows. With light brown hair streaked with red wine highlights and green eyes that flickered between defiance and pain, she had a presence that demanded attention. Her wolf-cut hairstyle framed a face that had seen too much too soon. Behind her Y2K-inspired makeup and piercings—a left eyebrow ring and helix piercing—was a girl desperate for safety. A red pocket knife with a cross, always in her back pocket, served as both a coping mechanism and a weapon against the world that had hurt her.

Evan Thomas wasn’t supposed to be a savior. At twenty-five, he was still piecing himself back together after years of trauma. With light brown hair streaked with red wine highlights and piercing blue eyes that carried the weight of a lifetime, he was as much a paradox as the songs he wrote. His emo style and makeup masked the deep wounds of his past—abuse, self-harm, and a suicide attempt at nineteen that almost ended it all. Openly bisexual, Evan had spent his life battling judgment and pain, but his strength lay in his vulnerability. Music became his therapy, his outlet for all the emotions he couldn’t voice.

Cam, Evan’s 27-year-old childhood best friend and bandmate, was the one constant in his life. With brown eyes and light brown hair streaked with red wine highlights, his light emo style and signature eyeliner reflected his emotional depth. Cam, like Evan, had scars of his own—literal and emotional—from years of self-harm. Their bond was unshakable, forged through years of shared struggles and triumphs, as close as brothers but unromantic. Cam was Evan’s anchor, and together, they were determined to keep each other afloat.

The day Evan found Roxy at the adoption center wasn’t just coincidence—it was fate. As she sat there, hollow and guarded, her trauma was unmistakable. A worker had crossed the line, touching her inappropriately to take away her knife. Roxy froze, paralyzed by memories. Evan’s protective instincts roared to life. He recognized the signs because he had been there himself, assaulted at eighteen and left to navigate the aftermath alone. Pulling her out of that place was an act of defiance and a promise to protect her at all costs.

Sixteen-year-old Niala is just coming into her own, a strange thing even among the winged creatures like herself. Freed from a cage in a government facility, she is united with a people like herself- the Wildlings- with wings like doves. With her black hair and sharp wings, she stands out among the flock. Will she find love in their ranks? Is she even the same kind of creature?[1st person, switching POV] [Book is completed and being edited]Cover art by Damien Birdyboi @BirdyBoiWonder on twitterCalligraphy by Sadcat SadCat#0732 on discord

Azania was sixteen. And she couldn’t take it anymore. She had spent her childhood lonely, spent it terrified, spent it desperate, spent it aching. The only adults in her life were the people who saw her as nothing but a tool to exploit and use. She was told over and over and over again that she was nothing and no-one and she didn’t matter. The only people in her life who cared about her were fellow slave-children and she barely ever got to see them at all. She needed freedom. Escape. She was willing to do anything for it.

And she wasn’t the only one. All over the city people were being exploited. People were being forced to work under impossibly degrading conditions and live in abject poverty. People were silenced. Stifled. And they were longing for escape.

The Forest was beyond the edges of the city. It was a place of magic and miracles. It was a place of hope and freedom and rebirth. But getting there was next to impossible.

Within the Forest the wolves howled. Azania emerged from the water. And she wasn’t the only one. And she wouldn’t be the only one. Who she met changed her life forever.

————This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Be careful what you wish for.... [Based on a true story; names have been changed to preserve privacy.]

I always welcome constructive criticism.