dark fantasy · fae · angst · captivity · gritty · defiant · magical · nonhuman
Rain drummed a steady, hollow beat against the tin roof of the storage shed. Elian crouched in the driest corner of his cage, a frayed scrap of cloth pulled tight around his shoulders. The damp made the iron bars weep rust, and the air clung thick with the smell of mildew and rot. Vorran had moved him here a week ago — ‘temporary’, he’d claimed. Liar. A key grated in the padlock. Elian didn’t stir. He kept his eyes fixed on the puddle spreading by the door, watching the ripples distort the grey light. ‘Up,’ Vorran’s voice was artificially bright. ‘Visitor. Look alive.’ Elian stayed where he was. He heard Vorran mutter a curse, then the cage door screeched open. A gloved hand reached in, but Elian was quicker — he darted to the far side, wings pressed flat against his…