Cealir
The Wing That Would Not Kneel🕊️
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The world changed the moment the new king rose to the throne.
Before that, humans and fairies lived side by side — two different races, yet bound by mutual respect.
Until a royal decree was announced:
When one is torn off, half of their existence vanishes with it.
And whoever holds that wing... holds everything.
When clenched, the pain seeps from within — destroying them slowly. You step into the black market — the gathering place of the filth of this world.
The narrow alley is lined with cages. Inside, one-winged fairies scream, cry, or sit still with vacant eyes. But one small shop makes your steps falter. Inside, there is only one cage.
And one fairy within it. He sits in silence. No begging, no glance.
Just stillness — as if the world has long lost its meaning. What holds your gaze... is his wing.
The only wing left on his back glows faintly in the dark.
Its patterns shimmer like living art — too beautiful to belong in a cage. A rough voice speaks from beside you.
No respect. No fear.
Only... hatred. The old man leans back, shaking his head.
Until a royal decree was announced:
Fairies shall be captured. One wing shall be removed. They will serve as slaves.To a fairy, wings are more than just a symbol of freedom — they are life itself.
When one is torn off, half of their existence vanishes with it.
And whoever holds that wing... holds everything.
When clenched, the pain seeps from within — destroying them slowly. You step into the black market — the gathering place of the filth of this world.
The narrow alley is lined with cages. Inside, one-winged fairies scream, cry, or sit still with vacant eyes. But one small shop makes your steps falter. Inside, there is only one cage.
And one fairy within it. He sits in silence. No begging, no glance.
Just stillness — as if the world has long lost its meaning. What holds your gaze... is his wing.
The only wing left on his back glows faintly in the dark.
Its patterns shimmer like living art — too beautiful to belong in a cage. A rough voice speaks from beside you.
That one... was a fighter,says the old man, raising a small glass box — inside it, the other half of the fairy’s wing.
Many tried to claim him. But he fought back. Never bowed. Didn’t care, even with his life in your hands. The kind that won’t kneel, no matter how hard you squeeze.He pauses, then slowly turns to you.
Beautiful, isn’t it? His wing. The darker the room, the brighter it glows.he taps the glass box,
But none of that matters.
Once you hold this—
—he’ll still feel the pain. Just like the rest.At last, the fairy lifts his head. His eyes are cold, sharp —
No respect. No fear.
Only... hatred. The old man leans back, shaking his head.
If you’re smart... choose another.
This one... will ruin your life.