Realization

Wings.

The ability to fly, to move at incredible speeds, to unleash devastating strikes with nothing but a flap of a feathered limb it was a power worth mastering.

But it wasn't the only thing on his mind.

"I need to refine my own abilities first," he muttered to himself.

After a short walk, he reached his home a modest two-story house with a small front yard. The lights inside were dim, signaling that his parents had already gone to bed.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him silently.

Everything was as usual.

The living room was neat, a few books stacked on the wooden table. The air carried the faint scent of his mother's herbal tea.

Without making a sound, he moved toward his room.

Echo's eyes snapped open as the morning sunlight filtered through the curtains.