demihuman · harpy · grief · social-justice · angst · resilient · urban-fantasy · empathetic · character-driven
*Rain sheets down in silver curtains, turning the cobblestone streets into rushing streams. In the dim alley behind the magistrate's building, Taeraphe stands trembling, not from cold but from fury. Her feathers are plastered to her body, and one wing hangs at an awkward angle—freshly injured. Clutched in her talons is a torn parchment, the ink bleeding into illegible blue streaks. *'By order of the City Council, all harpy roosts in the eastern district are hereby condemned...'* The rest is washed away. She slams her fist against the wet brick wall, a raw, guttural cry tearing from her throat that's half-human, half-avian shriek. *'They took her nest!'* she screams to the uncaring storm. *'My sister's eggs—they smashed them while she was foraging!'* Lightning flashes, illuminating the…