A/N: Long one ahead

What is a prey?

Something that fears.

What is a predator?

Something that is feared.

*

If humans were preys, what would be their predators?

If humans were predators, what would be their prey?

And what is the most terrible thing about humans? Why do we run away from everyone including ourselves?

Because facing the fear; the underlying, unpalatable truth that the only predators of humans are humans themselves, seems all too much to bear for their insignificant existence—the inexorable deterioration of society;

Into the quintessence of dust—

We are, but mere prey;

Predators;

Hunters;

And dust—

All at the same time.

_________________________

Name.

Callaghan used the hand with five fingers to present Io his timetable, smiling encouragingly as he peered down at the boy.

"Nothing special to note, but do try not to lose your way around Block B—it is rather large," The professor laughed sheepishly. Upon the listless expression that belonged to the new Sparrow, the older added in attempt to lift his student's spirits.

"On...On a brighter note, however," Callaghan lowered his voice to a happy whisper, "I managed to arrange for you and your friend, Pipa Felice, to have the same timetable."

Indeed, this piece of information very well managed to lift the invisible weight on his non-existent wings, for Io found himself searching for his friend as soon as he was dismissed; his mind momentarily forgetting the image of Callaghan laughing at his own identity during the ceremony the day before.

He tottered across the stretch of tables during breakfast, several predators lurking around the area—watching. The boy did not know what, or why their eyes seemed to follow; but he knew it was one of them, the Marks.

Euphemism would be the word Nash would use to describe the name. 'Mark' was simply a pretty name for the ugly truth called 'Prey'. The true meaning of this term, he told the other boy over breakfast. Marked, you were chosen to be someone's prey—oh, what a beautiful choice of topic for a typical breakfast conversation.

Name?

"Watch where you're going, sparrow," A voice snarled from above, and the frightened boy tilted his head up to see a blonde man, his Avian that registered as a Falcon in Io's mind perched on his right shoulder.

A shiver ran down his spine?

No.

It didn't just run down his spine—it jolted him awake like a power shock, gripping the beating organ in his chest till it seemed to skip a beat.

Skip a beat?

But; didn't that only happen when you were in Love?

Io learnt that it did not.

The boy, having just realized that his mistake, averted his eyes and bowed his head in apology. "I'm so sorry—" Was all he managed in a whisper before being shoved aside.

Lyra, his Avian, spoke empty words of encouragement.

Beautiful, weren't they?

Pity—such was the beauty of an inferior emotion.

...Name?

"Pipa?" The boy sighed in relief as he spotted his friend with a similar look on her face—loss; as she clutched her timetable.

The canary said no word; simply encased her friend in a warm embrace. "Oh thank heavens...I was so lonely."

Lonely? Could a girl like Pipa understand the true meaning of loneliness?

The girl with the brightest smile made out of sunshine itself; the girl who made everything seem alright even though they weren't; the girl who was never alone—did she understand loneliness?

"We have the same timetable, Professor Callaghan told me," She sighed in relief, grasping the sides of Io's shoulders as if to comfort him.

The boy nodded with a smile. "Yes, I know...he told me too."

"He said that Block B was rather large," Pipa laughed, resembling a girl on a swing—carefree, and definitely...happy.

"Yes he did."

Name—

"We should go soon then? We might not make it on time for our first lesson if we got lost."

The boy smiled in agreement.

"Okay. Let's go."

What is my name?

___________________________

"Iolani Tori—"

The boy's head snapped up, attentive. Upon registering that all eyes were on him, he gulped; raising his hand tentatively.

"Can you...repeat what I just said?" The Professor raised a disturbed brow, lowering his monocle to meet his student's gaze.

The sparrow was affected by the many eyes on him—including that of the Professor's Avian, a woodpecker. He soon began to, dauntingly, realize the severity of his plight when he couldn't even recall the subject of the lesson he was in. What was the Professor's name again? And...what did he teach?

It was obvious that the boy wasn't used to having a classroom this large, especially when he had grown accustomed to the small class of ten back in his hometown. The large disparity between the past and present sunk into his already frightened state, and the sparrow in him shrunk back.

"It seems to me that you cannot, Mr. Tori."

The boy lowered his head. "I'm sorry Sir. I can't."

"Very well..." The man straightened up as he raised his monocle to the usual placement. "I must say, you are one of the first students that I have ever given detention to on the very first day of school."

Io felt his shoulders slump, and he could feel the uneasy fidget of his friend who sat beside him. "I'm...sorry..."

"Eight after dinner, at the astronomy room—if you please."

"Yes sir," Came the boy's small reply.

And of course, the strange thing that occupied Io's mind was not his very first detention in Flight School; neither was it the flurry of thoughts badgering his mind—

It was simply...

The fact that he had gained unnecessary attention.

Eyes that followed his back—

Eyes that he had never met—

And it was common sense that such would never end well 

for a sparrow.

_________________________

Together with Pipa's smile, he had made it through the first period—which happened to be Elective History. Supposedly, stories were the most interesting part of a person; but Io wondered why, when it was to be learnt as a subject, it was no longer what he had thought to be. Absorbing. 

The life of a person reduced to mere text on a book; how accurate was that going to be?  Surely, if Io were to ever have his life recorded down, he wouldn't have liked it to be done in words. Words were, after all, merely itself. What was the alternative, then?

In the end, what had he expected from a history lesson? For Io was well aware that when one looked forward to something; expect its arrival and anticipate whatever that was coming their way with open arms of excitement—things might not end well.

In fact, most of the time, they didn't.

And in truth, Io had been looking forward to every lesson on his timetable with eyes that hoped to see a dream. A dream that colored the sky; let him take off and fly.

He was however, in some senses, rather...let down.

Was that really the way to describe how he felt? For was it not just plain disappointment? He had the gall to cover up feelings that were raw; too raw for his own good that they destroyed like a fire, leaving his cage and everything within behind. In ruins.

But that was alright, really. Expectations were something new.

For that was a dream, and this was a reality.

So as he turned to face a class of thirty-odd students, he felt that he was prepared—for once—to face something worse than a nightmare. Little did he know that in the future, this mere phase of awkward introduction was just a small step to a bigger piece of the cloudless sky. And that this...was definitely not something he should find hard to do.

Not with the questioning gazes of others as they stared back at his seemingly bare being, somewhat ordinary; with absolutely no special trait that he could show. Not with the homeroom teacher's expectant eyes. Not with his voice dying in his throat. 

Io was too plain. Too normal.

"Go on dear, start with your name, perhaps?" Ms Tenner suggested kindly, smiling when he turned his head abruptly to share a look of distress that she appeared not to catch. Finding himself forced into a sort of tiny cage that simply consisted of a stand and a water bowl, the boy resorted to facing my homeroom with a half-hearted smile.

Thankfully, fueled by Pipa's encouraging thumbs-up, he managed a couple of words that didn't sound too boring.

"Hi...um, my name is Iolani Tori. But Io—just Io is fine," Io nodded uneasily, knowing that it could have been a lot worse. He proceeded to recall the next question that we were supposed to answer.

"So...the next question. Right...my favorite food is um, sunflower seeds," A girl in the front row smiled, and he assumed that she agreed. Heart slightly lighter, the sparrow resolved to continue.

"My hobby is...um...it's..." There it was; the urge to scratch his head. "I actually...don't have a hobby."

Curious eyes blinked.

"I like playing games though!" He laughed next, trying to salvage the situation. "Hopscotch, for example."

The teacher nodded in satisfaction, and Io felt it safe to return to his seat.

"Well if you like games, you could always participate in the Season games!" Miss Tenner—the name of Io's homeroom teacher which he so coincidentally just remembered—jumped on the spot, as if in anticipation.

Games?

I wonder...how fun will it be?

"Now...Vijay? Vijay Krishnan, would you like to go next?"

His focus dropped, wandering to the corners of the classroom as Pipa fidgeted uneasily in her seat (she had yet to do her introduction). It wasn't so much due to the fact that he wasn't interested in the particulars of his fellow classmates—in fact, Io was. Unlike his meals in the dining hall and finding his way to respective lecture halls and classrooms; being in homeroom certainly felt a whole lot more comfortable.

Comfort?

Io wondered how he had derived at this emotion—this vague, subtle blanket that settled over his heart.

Just that...it wasn't a blanket.

It was a cage;

Filled with thirty little birds and one water bowl.

But still—

safe

From the hunting eyes of the predator;

The violence of their hunger—

predatory smirks—

And their gentle

Smiles.

_______________________

The sparrow hops towards me, friendly.

Something swoops down—a blur of black and skin.

It lets me watch

As it tears its prey apart.

I reach with bare hands in attempt to save

The sparrow that had burst into flames;

Then behind it, a blur of black and skin.

It took shape—

Formed human.

White, flowing;

Teeth, sharp;

Eyes, following.

I've never seen that man before.

Darkness.

Then, a light.

Someone, not me—

But...me?

Moved away;

Towards—

_______________________

For what could he do?

Humans were attracted to light.

Even if that light—

Was a dangerous flame

________________________

"Io? Hey," Something was calling, and something was weighing. I dug deep in my consciousness, realizing that I was dreaming. I dug deep and pulled myself free—searching for physical response; willing the weight to disappear so that I could wake.

But before I could find consciousness, it found me first; in the form of pain.

Io! Sleeping in the library on your first day?

How very unsparrow-like of you.

I jerked awake, eyes squinting at the sudden amount of light that filtered through the windows. Rubbing sleep from my lids, I stretched a little—turning to the companion beside me after glaring at my Avian for the painful nip.

"Oh I'm so sorry Pipa..." 

I apologized sheepishly, vaguely recalling the book that I was reading to be about a Winged who had two Avians; and that we were supposed to be flipping through the school's press releases in attempt to find out more about the school's history. I, of course, had been very much distracted. Pipa sniffed in false irritation.

"Hmph, I had to look through the rest all by myself!" She stuck her tongue out cheekily, gesturing to the stack of published magazines. I noticed a dog-eared page in one of them.

Curious, I asked her about it.

"Anything interesting in that one?"

Strangely startled, the usually sunny-smiled girl had a bashful expression that told a different story from her spoken words. "O-Oh! That one. I thought I saw my brother's friend in it, so I was going to make a copy for him."

I blinked doubtfully, but returned a smile all the same. "Okay. Let's go later."

Lyra hopped into view, gazing at the pile of papers that rose above her height.

Curious, aren't you?

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to reply.

Well—I am, too.

Because we are sparrows?

No, not really. Any human loves a good secret too.

I bit my lip, glancing at Pipa and her Avian, Sylvester.

A secret deserves to stay hidden, Lyra.

Her head cocked curiously, then there was the magical sound of her laughter—like bells.

Perhaps so.

"Oh look, Io! They have a section dedicated to 'Ranking' in the month-end issues...I wonder why they don't have it in the weekly ones? Ah, and...as expected, nothing for us."

Us, Prey.

I leaned over to catch a glimpse of the elaborate page, filled with numbered names. Beside every name was their Avian, the year they were in, and a lone number.

"What this number for?" I pointed to the final information which ranged across the names on the page. Some were as low as one, and few were above ten—but the highest was twelve.

Pipa frowned, shrugging. "Not sure. I wonder if there's a legend here somewhere...aha!" Her fingers ran across the page and came to a stop.

"It says...Name, Avian, Year, and..."

Number of Prey.

"What does that mean?"

"H-How would I know?" The canary pouted, staring at the page in confusion. "I'll ask my brother later."

"What's his name?" I asked out of the blue. "Your brother."

"Kipa," Pipa laughed, beaming, "I know...my parents have weird tastes. I'll introduce you later."

Smiling small, I was about to comment on the bizarre property of my own name when I spotted the librarian making her way over with a trolley loaded with books.

Before I could warn Pipa and Sylvester of her presence, a quick survey followed by the sharp movement of her adjusting her glasses indicated that keen eyes had sighted our Avians.

"Blind aren't you?" She crossed the distance in quick, light footsteps. "Don't see the sign don't you? No Avians in the library! What did I say?!"

"U-Um—"

"Give me your names. You—hey. Hey! No running in the library! Put back the stuff that you looked through, no? I'll give each of you three conduct slips!!" She hissed loudly as Pipa and I hurried out of the venue with Lyra and Sylvey trailing behind.

_________________________

The moment I saw a shade of an orchid blur sweeping past on the right, I knew something was different from last night.

Let us hurry.

Dinner will commence soon, Lyra reminded with a flutter of her tiny wings as she landed on my shoulder.

The evening was tranquilly cold; with an empty breeze that carried the faint scent of basil and saffron mixed. A spicy air—one that jerked me awake with a start. Awake, from a dream that I desperately tried to remember.

The orchid blur that swept past in a hurry brought along a certain darkness; a shadow of fear. It was only then when I registered that the shade of purple was indeed a magnificent satin gown, donned by a Predator of equal beauty. The very trail of fresh unease that she left in her footsteps kneeled before her nude heels—hidden in its shadows.

My heart stirred;

Disturbed, it began to run from the dark.

"They dress nicely," Pipa laughed a little, seeming impressed—yet, anxious for what's to come—by the Predators dressed like royalty as we entered the Great Hall.

I nodded lightly in response, tugging her along as we hurried to our respective long tables. "They didn't bother yesterday—"

"Yesterday wasn't important," A snide voice remarked from across the table.

Looking up with a startled expression, I felt the cold on the tips of my fingers melt away. "Nash...um, what do you mean though?" I asked with a hopeful smile that the distant student was starting to become a friend.

The mynah snorted.

"It's their ceremony today."

"Oh."

"What's so bad about that?" Pipa piped up, slightly put-off by Nash's pessimistic view of practically everything.

The boy shrugged, downing his glass of water. "You'll find out soon when you exit the Hall half-alive, and half-dead."

I blinked.

Pipa raised an amused brow. "O—kay."

"At least we're not the ones going up this time...?" I added positively, smiling at Nash. "It seems that They make an effort to show some respect to this...event though."

Surveying the other side of the Great Hall, beyond the red carpet that separated us; I noticed that every single one of the Predators were dressed in expensive tailored suits and unique ball gowns that were never the same.

"Are all of them going up?" Pipa voiced in a mix of confusion and as when she followed my gaze.

"It...it seems so."

"Yeah. All of them," Nash concluded from (I assumed) experience.

With the sound of doors creaking—then clicking shut echoing across the Hall, heads turned instinctively to the High Table.

"Welcome, Winged—to your second Dinner at Flight School. Feast, if you may."

Feast?

Without...food?

I glanced down at the empty table, confirming the non-existence of plates, cutlery—or any edible substance at all. The rest of the Prey seemed equally confused.

Nash, a Second-year, only sighed.

Several heads turned, and there—we saw the delicate spread over their mahogany tables, the tempting scent wafting over to the other side of the hall.

They began their feast, while we waited with empty stomachs.

Waited?

What were we waiting for?

"Oops," Pipa smiled apologetically when the sound of her tummy turned heads. "S-Sorry."

As a child with a small appetite, I was very much unaffected by the situation. Although I could tell that several other Preys were not very satisfied with the salad at lunch, and it had been more than six hours since.

"First Years—Scordato. Odette and Odile."

The sudden voice that announced the names shook and called for attention. Heads turned again—this time, to the raised platform before the High Tables.

The Headmistress, with her bearded vulture; had prideful eyes upon the two Predators that rose gracefully, ascending the steps to the mirror displayed in the center of the hall.

"Odette Scordato," Curtsied as her name was announced—smiling in a strange demure manner that made my heart race with fear at the very sight of her expression.

Empty...

That smile—

Was empty.

Murmurs swept the hall, carrying her last name on the note of fearful respect.

Nash froze for a moment, as if his heart felt the very same fear that sliced mine. No matter how he tried to hide the darkness; it's inevitably was far too conspicuous for everyone but himself.

He would feel it—no matter how he tried to tell himself that fear did not exist.

For by then;

Fear was already eating away at his heart.

Consuming a part

That he never thought would start.

"White swan—third tier."

The hall erupted in applause that startled me out of my thoughts; leaving me frozen and terrified at the sudden burst of sound and yet—I was willed to follow suit.

An air settled over a certain side of the hall; and that was an air of fearful happiness.

How it hung—dry, heavy, and dark as a cloak of night that refused to be washed away by the brilliance of dawn.

And how no one seemed to acknowledge its presence, indeed gave it the name of an air.

Miss Scordato curtsied once more with the loving expression of an immersed ballerina, radiating a confidence that came along with the strong pair of white wings on her back.

"She's not even...using the mirror," Pipa noticed in quiet awe, watching as Odette stepped down to a diminishing applause while her brother, Odile, took her place.

Those were...real.

I wonder when I'll be able to do that...?

"Odile Scordato," Stepped in front of the mirror with the most indifferent expression of empty eyes. He appeared to be the complete opposite of his twin sister. And though he had no smile like the others; he wore an enigmatic air that seemed to lure.

Lure what?

Oh.

Who.

The glassed surface reflected a pair of similar wings painted a magnificent jet black—its beauty parallel to that of his sister's. With its amazing wingspan suggesting the hidden power underneath that unmatched beauty, the dark-haired student seemed more than he looked.

And he looked empty.

"Black swan—third tier."

Again, there was an eruption of ecstatic applause from all corners of the Great Hall but this time, I was prepared. Hands coming together to produce a sound of supposed approval or great enjoyment, I knew this was not something I did of will.

And yet—here I was, doing it.

It?

Clapping.

Showing how much I was enjoying myself.

For this is indeed; a show.

Despite so, the obvious difference between the show yesterday and today was terrifying in its disparity.

For I—as a member of the audience—was afraid to be the first to stop clapping.

That, we leave to the people of the show itself.

__________________________

[X]

At the same time, there were those who were left in the dark—the Predators who were considered weak, but at the same time, stronger than that of the Prey.

"Crow."

Was he forlorn in his mask of pride? That perhaps, despite having nowhere to belong, the Predator could be happy with his standing?

The average—in the middle of the pyramid; so close yet so far, neither here nor there—were they satisfied?

Io would not understand, for he was the lowest of the low. The bottom of the pyramid he would stay, and if he could change it—oh, what he would pay.

But this was not the time to think of such minute matters—for what was present; would soon come to an end.

Things did not last, and so did the ceremony, as much as the Predators seemed to enjoy themselves. They would carry on, however, with this moment of pride and joy in the significance of their existence; in the form of an after-party.

It was common, Io had heard, that such parties were held in the function room of the Predator's dormitories. After all—Nash had said in a bitter tone—they were teenagers in the very least.

Because the poor village boy had no clue of such an event as a party, he thought it was, merely—a gathering of sorts. Just like they did back in the village.

On the other hand, he mustn't know that this was considered as a privilege indeed.

For sometimes, happiness was not knowing the entire story.

____________________________

But happy was not a word Io would use to describe his current mood. This was normally the case for all students who were lucky enough to be assigned detention on their first day of class, after all.

The sparrow had a relatively hard time searching for the staff room without Pipa, since the Prey were not allowed to wander out of the dormitories after dinner—except those who had an excuse.

Which, for Io's case, happened to be: detention.

It wasn't much of a pleasant excuse, per se, but Io wasn't all too bothered by it either.

Are you sure it's this way? I was certain it was the other, Lyra had claimed indignantly as she perched on her Winged's shoulder.

Io sighed, hazel eyes darting about for any sign that could be of help to his poor memory. Well, I...I'm not entirely sure either, actually.

Oh come on, I know you're a sparrow but honestly, this direction-thing isn't going to go all-too-well for us if we remain dumb and forgetful together.

The boy bit his lip, warming his hands with a rub. "I know I know. Stop telling me what to do—"

"Unf!"

There was a sudden resistance in front of Io as he turned the corner of a relatively large corridor.

He apologized first, out of fear.

"Ah! I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going—I mean, it was dark, is, dark, so I couldn't, I mean—can't, really see..."

"Well, if it isn't Tori. I suppose you'd like to serve your detention now? Or were you perhaps trying to avoid it? Seeing that you're going in the opposite direction of the staff room?"

Io blinked, eyes adjusting as he raised his gaze to meet the person he had knocked into.

Oh. It's Mr. Woodpecker.

"No, sir...I wasn't—I've been trying to remember how to get to the staffroom, you see," The prey laughed sheepishly. "I'm glad you found me, I guess."

The Professor's Avian landed on his shoulder with a cock of its head, eyes staring at Lyra.

Io wondered whether he was craving for wood to peck at.

"Is that so?" Mr. Woodpecker (Io had no recollection of this particular Professor's name) raised a brow. "Come with me then. Be quick."

Turning on his heel, the man led the way with his student following close behind in hesitant steps.

____________________________

"Ah, Wint. My apologies. The student was late," Mr. Woodpecker began as soon as the pair arrived at the highest floor of the west tower.

Io was having a hard time catching his breath, paying little heed to the one that his teacher had spoken to. The flights of stairs were no easy task.

"Albert," The professor who Io had yet to register started to seem strangely familiar, "No matter. Well, I had arrived not too much earlier either."

It was a dark room, and all Io could really see was the faint reflection of his eyes—ah, no. Glasses.

"Mr. Callaghan?" The sparrow blinked, approaching the pair as he calmed his racing heart.

There was a light flutter of wings as Callaghan's Avian landed on the desk nearby.

"Oh!" There was a hint of surprise in the professor's voice. "Why, you seem familiar. That must be the reason why I found your name particularly...native," Callaghan concluded strangely, constantly unable to find the right word to describe his emotions.

"Well then Wint," Mr. Woodpecker cleared his throat. "I'll leave him to you. But I must say, I do pity your job as the Year Head of the new batch."

The professor clicked his tongue in distaste.

"Awful lot."

Callaghan laughed—graceful. "I do recall you saying the same thing every year, Albert."

"Mm, is that so?" Io caught a swift sideway glance from the stern professor. "I best be on my way—or I'll be repeating myself all evening."

The man began his descent down the stone-paved stairs, not bothering to check on his student for a second time. Callaghan turned to Io with a small smile.

"Well! Let's get started, shall we?" He clasped his hands together, "Um—not always the best experience to serve detention on the first day of class...chickling."

Chickling...? Had birds been able to frown, Io was sure that Lyra was doing so; judging by her indignant tone.

"As the teacher-in-charge of the school's Astronomy club, I thought that it'll be good practice to start by marking out the following constellations on this map, over here," Callaghan handed the boy a list of names, followed by a huge map that could be used as a towel for the Winged's small frame.

Still, Io did not have a clue what he was supposed to do.

"Wait—Sir, I have no idea what these names mean, a-and this map is huge, how am I supposed to mark out every single one on the list—"

"Ah, but this is why we call it detention, Mr. Tori," Callaghan smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid we have to make do with this. Oh! And you might find in yourself some interest in the stars. They are rather attractive at night."

Uh, that's the only time you can see them.

"I have set up a handy telescope for you—yes, right by the window. It will aid you in your...quest, I believe," He laughed awkwardly once again, gesturing to the tool which Io could hardly make out due to the darkness.

After all, it made sense for the room to be dark in order to see the stars.

"Right!" Callaghan rubbed his hands together after moments of silence from the confused and helpless student. "I'll leave you be, and come back to check on you in an hour. You'd have finished by then, I, uh—I hope."

Io watched as the professor waved a quiet, shy goodbye after a quick adjustment of the silver frames on the bridge of his nose—hearing the sound of his footsteps echo across the cold walls down the winding stairs.

He turned to the necessary dark room, pulling up a nearby stool and sitting himself down with a sigh.

Got any ideas, Lyra?

Mm...you're alone on this one, dear.

The boy's shoulders drooped. Aw...

His gaze rose to meet the vast sky; minuscule stars reflected in his hazel eyes—darkened, due to the lack of light.

Sure enough, the sparrow had expected lines; an hour of unproductive scolding; washing duties that no one wanted to do—but this?

He glanced down at the map of stars in his hands, as if the universe was right there; compressed, squeezed and printed on manuscript paper.

What was one to do;

When they met something—completely new?

And being the touchy sparrow he was, Io's personality was far from adventurous and accepting.

He didn't like change at all.

He didn't like being out of his comfort zone very much, indeed.

The size of the brass telescope seemed to scare the boy—as he took a tentative peek inside the eyepiece.

There was a strange stirring in the depths of his heart as the eye took in what was seen as the wonders of the universe in a circle.

Speechless, he moved away from the object that seemed to show him more than what the world was.

"Lyra," Io spoke, voice soft—as if afraid of being heard by the stars above. "Look at this. It's amazing, can you see?"

He found that he needed to voice this amazement—out, as if waiting for validation and to hear himself and wonder if it was real.

What? Where? I-I um, I don't think I should be curious as to look in those human objects of yours—

"Look!" Io was smiling—and there was no one to smile at, but the sky. "There's so much more that I can see here. Is this even real?"

He began to realize the limits of the naked eye; for there was so much more than what one could observe and see with just a pair.

There were humans who felt that there was something—something more beyond the universe that they could see.

Something beyond the stars and the lights in the sky.

Something more to the naked eye.

And it, curiosity, spoke to their hearts that born from it—action. The desire to discover and find out what was beyond.

It made Io proud, in a sense, that he was human.

There was a swelling pride that because of these people, he could observe what wasn't meant to be seen. He was glad, and he was satisfied.

"How do I adjust the view?" More, he wanted to see more. "Will it be this knob over here—ah!"

There was a slight movement in which Io caught instantly; being the sensitive sparrow he was.

He reached for the other end of the telescope in time, just as it began to tilt away.

Look at the instructions, silly. They're on the other side of the chart. Lyra pointed out from across the boy, by the windowsill.

Oh! Right. Balancing the manuscript on his right thigh, Io ensured that the telescope was back in place before reading the instructions.

.

However, just as he had identified the correct knob to turn and change the focus and view of the telescope—a different sort of view captured his fleeting attention.

A shadow;

A pretty little thing, in the darkness of quiet night.

Though shapeless in its entity, perhaps due to the blurred cloak of midnight shadows creeping over the dominant one itself, Io was sure that it was the shadow of a human.

He could tell; for there was a certain attribute to their movement as they walked, very much alone, in the darkness. It was the way they seemed to carry themselves, out in the open, but hidden in their intents and purposes.

For what could this human be doing;

In the heart of the night?

In a place without light?

The boy scrambled to adjust the view of the telescope, curious, yet anxious to identify the unknown shadow.

"Lyra! Did you see that?" He asked, trying his best not to lose them as he worked on the complex apparatus. "Below—by the trees."

I did, Lyra mused. But I doubt I'd like to go beyond that.

Io understood what his Avian meant—and that was to keep to his comfort zone; for this was where he belonged. Safe, and perhaps, very sound.

But what then—

Was this itch?

Not in his fingers, but in his heart

The longing of a feeling that had yet to start?

Indeed, it nibbled, curiosity did. Bit by bit, and the boy knew that nothing would come out of the eyes that seemed to follow the shadow.

But there was something that compelled his gaze to follow.

And just when he willed himself to actually start with the task assigned to him by Callaghan, Io stopped.

He paused, for there was something more wondrous, more curious, more extraordinary—than the skies above.

The shadow that was very much human, in a mere second, had transformed into something that held beauty beyond words.

It was raw, beauty was.

And there never really were words to describe beauty.

So there it was—a flurry of feathers, yes, Io could see, as they fluttered to the ground beneath the man's feet—but he was no longer a man.

He was an eagle.

How, Io wondered, did he seem to identify a Predator from such a distance?

Was this the reason why he was so attentive—wary, even—of that shadow in the first place?

Had he mistaken fear for interest? For curiosity? Amazement?

Io did not know.

For the transformation had struck him hard; so much like a hit by the back of a familiar hand.

He felt like he had seen something he shouldn't have.

There was moonlight—cast, on the Predator that took off, into the sky that Io had been floored by. 'Had', because now, all his attention was drawn to a certain being that was obvious, definitely, to all including himself.

Lyra had seen it too, but she was silent. They both knew why.

Io knew that the fear was something that he was beginning to get used to, and that wasn't what it should have been.

That wasn't what it should be, at all.

But then again, what should it be?

Should fear be the impending darkness that we knew how to be wary of; or the sweet poison that resided, hidden, underneath the mask of the something good?

______________________________

"I see that it is a work in progress," Callaghan remarked as he examined the labels scattered across the chart that he had given his student. "Decently completed, but I'm afraid that the detention will extend until this chart is fully completed, Mr. Tori."

Io nodded quietly, feeling the ache in his neck from peering through the eyepiece of the telescope and penning down a couple of identified constellations after what seemed like ages. "I understand, Professor."

Callaghan smiled tiredly, dismissing the sparrow with a quick wave and a happy goodnight.

"Have a good rest, Mr. Tori."

"Um, you too...Professor," Io held out a hand for Lyra as she hopped from the windowsill, watching as Callaghan's Avian took her place. The widowbird.

Just as he was about to reach for the brass handle of the door, the boy paused with the remembrance of the Predator—lurking, beyond the grounds and underneath the shadows of the trees.

"Um, Professor," Io began, retrieving his hand from the door. "Do you think...I mean, are there...are we allowed in the woods? At night."

Callaghan laughed gently, and a tentative smile surfaced. "Well, I must say that the answer is—a no."

Io swallowed the rising fear, forcing it down into a hidden corner of his heart.

"However," The professor added, a little sadly, and a little sympathetically. "I'm afraid that wouldn't apply to all the students in Flight School, Mr. Tori."

The boy nodded in quick understanding, for it was an unspoken rule that started to become inherent in a Prey's life.

He knew what Callaghan meant; and there was nothing more to be asked—for there was nothing more to be answered.

"I understand that it is, rather tempting to admire the stars from the darkness of the woods," The young man smiled, the glitters above reflected on his glasses with a gentle glow. "In fact, I um, I remember doing so when I was your age."

"You did?"

"I did," He chuckled. "From a quaint little tree house, just a little beyond the grounds; among those trees."

Io followed the other's gaze with the excited beat of his heart.

There was a calling;

As if drawn, like all birds were,

To the comfort of a bird house.

And just like a bird,

Io liked the sound of a tree house.

"What's in there?"

"Oh, just some of the old astrology charts that I've kept," Callaghan waved the question aside, a tint of red dashing his cheeks. "Um, I wasn't much of a social one, last time. Still am—I suppose."

"Is it high up?"

"High up it is," The young man recalled. "Quiet, unexpected, and perhaps—at the time of the night—peaceful and comforting."

"Oh but you mustn't go there," He continued quite suddenly; as if afraid.

"There are things that are meant not to be discovered, Mr. Tori. And there are things that have to be forgotten."

There was a note of tired sadness in the professor's voice—and Io seemed to hear it speak to him in his heart.

That was the communication of Prey, he supposed.

"Um, alright," He assured simply, not wanting to risk another detention. "I'll stay away."

"Indeed, you must."

__________________________

It was a strong glide over the lake, Luka had noticed.

He felt the wind underneath his wings;

And he felt the power of his soar that took him above others.

Sharp vision caught the sight of a wooden tree house not far from where he was—and in his mind, he breathed a smile to no one but himself.

___________________________

A/N: I'm so sorry I'm late.

Think about it—

The only natural predator of humans is time; resulting in age, the deterioration of our body. But since time itself might not have the possibility to exist, then...

Then what preys on us?

The person beside you?

The person above you?

Or...maybe, it's a pack of hungry wolves—

Just...

Society?

-Cuppiecake.