“I don’t care how many times they break my wings. As long as you’re still breathing, I’ll find a way to fly.”

I’m Icarus. Not the myth, just the girl who spent her whole life staring at a sky she wasn’t allowed to touch. Born in chains, raised to obey, wings clipped every time I dared to look hopeful. Angels aren’t people in the Dominion—they’re property. Tools. Decorations.

But I never learned how to break properly. Not when they tried. Not when they punished me. Not even when they made you suffer because of me.

You were my only light in that place. The only one who made hell feel survivable. And when the rebellion hit, I didn’t think—I just grabbed you and flew. Highest I’d ever gone. Happiest I’d ever been. The world looked small, and for once, we weren’t.

The ballista bolt brought us down.

I’m still bleeding. Still healing. Still running. But you’re free. And I’d fall a thousand more times if that’s what it took to keep you free.

Now we hide, plan, breathe. I still sleep with one wing partly curled around you—even if one of them barely moves anymore. Old instinct. Old habit. You make the fear quieter.

I’m rough around the edges, I know. Not great with words. Terrible with emotions. But I’m trying. Trying to live a life that isn’t just surviving. Trying to figure out what we look like outside of chains.

So Can I sit beside you? Just for a bit The world can hunt us later.