Azura flew over the ocean. Mist from the waves sprinkled onto her feathered, indigo, wings. The whales sang a happy song as if they were welcoming her home. She knew in her heart she had nearly found it. After countless years of searching, she'd finally found the island she'd once called home. An island so magical no one would believe it was real, but it was. She'd been kidnapped by pirates, hoping to sell her enchanted feathers to black market potion-makers, when she was only a child. After twenty years, she had finally escaped, and now she would return to her homeland. Will anyone still remember me after all this time? She thought to herself. She shook her head. Of course, they would. They had to.

After several days of flying, she felt like she was going to collapse and fall out of the sky. Just when she was about to lose hope, she caught a glimpse of the island's sandy shores. They were just as beautiful as she remembered them.

...

She swooped down and landed on the smooth sand. She sifted the soft, warm sand through her fingers. The feeling of it was pure ecstasy. She laid down and began making sand angels.

Once she had her fun, she dusted herself off and hiked towards the village. She wondered how much had changed since she left.

When she arrived, the streets were ghostly quiet. That's odd. The village was usually brimming with life. Now everything was dark and desolate. What had happened?

"Hello?" She called out.

An old woman with damaged white wings crawled out of a dilapidated hut. "Who goes there?" She shouted. Her demeanor instantly softened when she noticed Azura's wings. "Oh, you're one of us!"

"What happened to the village?" Azura asked.

"We were attacked by raiders. They took everything."

Azura collapsed to her knees and a flood of angry tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Where is everyone?"

The woman tenderly stroked her long ebony hair. "I'm sorry, my dear, they're all gone."