The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty school rooftop, painting the brickwork in hues of amber and fading orange. Seventeen-year-old Jaida Carlson sighed, slinging her worn backpack higher on her shoulder. Another detention for being late, another hour of her life she wouldn't get back.

As she pushed open the heavy metal door leading to the roof, a faint, metallic scent pricked at her nose—something like ozone and old iron. She blinked, her gaze sweeping across the familiar expanse. Then she saw him.

He lay sprawled near the edge, amidst the discarded soda cans and forgotten textbooks, impossibly still. Black, leathery wings, impossibly large, were folded awkwardly behind him, one tipped with what looked like a broken, jagged bone. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his hair, dark as midnight, spilled across the grimy concrete. Jaida's breath hitched in her throat. This wasn't a prank. This wasn't normal. His eyes, even closed, seemed to burn with a faint, angry red beneath his lashes. A creature of nightmare, yet undeniably, terribly real, lay motionless before her.