Some creatures are born beneath open skies.

Others spend their lives learning how to breathe inside a cage no one else can see.

Veyra learned young that walls remember screams even when neighbors do not. She learned that footsteps could be warnings, silence could be armor, and sometimes the hand calling itself family was the one she feared most.

Then, one night, the cage finally opened.

Something was left behind inside it.

Something that would never breathe again.

Now she wanders beneath unfamiliar stars with red and blue ghosts forever flickering somewhere behind her. The world has given her a new name—one written on posters and spoken through radios—but she still doesn’t know what to call herself.

Victim.

Monster.

Survivor.

Perhaps there isn’t a word for something that finally bit through its chains.

All Veyra knows is that she is free.

And somehow, freedom has never felt so much like being hunted.