The skies were no longer silent. Whispers drifted between clouds, and birds from both worlds began to notice the quiet shift in the way the small bird flew beside the skylark, not in perfect lines, not obeying rules, but moving freely. It unsettled some and inspired others. And while the bright sky held its distance, the gloomy one began to stir. Shadows shifted. Eyes followed. The small bird's quiet rise had planted something new in the air, something that couldn't be ignored.
The birds from the gloomy sky began to quietly follow the small bird's lead. As the days went by, something in the grey sky started to shift. Whenever the skylark and the small bird flew together, a strange feeling lingered like unseen eyes were watching from afar. At first, the changes were subtle: just a few flickers of movement in the shadows above.
When the small bird returned to the gloomy sky, everything felt off. Birds would vanish and reappear moments later, casting betrayed glances at him whenever he passed. The small bird didn't notice he was being watched. He simply stayed close to the skylark, still uncertain, still trembling at times, but flying higher than ever before. In the distance, other birds began to copy his quiet rise, testing the wind as if it might carry them differently now.
As time went on, more birds grew curious. They followed the small bird's trail through the sky. Their gathering caught the sharp gaze of a skylark. From afar, the birds stared, their eyes fixed on the small bird who now looked happier than he ever had. But none of them saw the bright, powerful force creeping toward them—a force only the skylarks could withstand. The skylark flying beside the small bird watched in horror as the light swallowed him in a single blink.
The bird slowly opened his eyes. His wings appeared, but they were too weak to fly again. As he looked around, he saw every other bird helping one another—yet no one came near him. Some birds felt guilty, but they chose loyalty over kindness, remembering how he had once betrayed them. Even though they ignored him, the bird endured the pain in silence.
An old man hid somewhere in the sky in silence. He could cure other birds. The old bird came across the bird, unable to move, and he quickly examined the wings. If he hadn't found the bird in time, he would never have been able to fly higher.
The old bird gently laid his hand on his injured wing and closed his eyes while whispering something the bird had never encountered. The bird glanced at its wings. It had never looked so powerful.
Although his wings were back, what he remembered haunted him. The bird struggles with old habits, and fears are returning. He thought he found light, but it was the same as before. Sadness takes him over once again. He found trust in the old man, but he felt he was going to lose him, too.
The skylark desperately looked for the bird, but all she saw were crowds mourning from pain. The first time the skylark had ever shed a tear, she never knew that the other skylarks would go this far. She couldn't help but think about what could have happened to the bird she was closest to. The skylarks warned her that if she flew below, she would have to face consequences. The skylark felt lonely, like she had always felt before meeting the bird.
The gloomy sky felt heavier than ever. Every flap of her wings echoed with worry as the skylark drifted lower, ignoring the sharp stares from above. She searched every corner of the sky, every shadow, every drifting cloud, hoping to catch even the faintest trace of him. But all she found were frightened birds whispering about the bright force, their voices trembling as if the sky itself had betrayed them.
The skylark's heart tightened. She had promised herself she would never leave him behind, yet now she didn't even know where he had fallen. A promise can never be broken, and it was her time to take action, although she didn't know how. She thought she could never escape the sharp eyes of the other skylarks.
Far below, the bird tried to stand, but the memory of the light still burned through him. He wondered if the skylark was still searching, or if she had been forced back into the bright sky's perfect lines. The thought stung more than the pain in his wings. He had finally felt seen, finally felt understood — and now he feared he had lost the only bird who had ever looked at him without judgement.
The old man was weak but chose to help the young bird because he was the only one who had trust in him, which no other bird did. "Strength isn't only in the wings," he murmured, his voice soft but steady. "It's in choosing to rise again, even when the sky tries to pull you down." He didn't want to listen to what he said; the words in his head lingered with him. Every time he tried to lift his wings, the memory of the bright force flashed behind his eyes, freezing him in place.
The sky around her dimmed as she hovered in place, torn between the world she came from and the one she chose. For a moment, the skylark let the silence settle, feeling the cold wind brush against her feathers. Somewhere below, she sensed the faint echo of the bird she had once flown beside, a presence she couldn't reach but couldn't forget. She wiped the tear from her cheek and steadied her wings. No matter what the others said, no matter what consequences waited for her, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: she would not stop searching. Not until she found him again.
The sky around her felt colder as she drifted back into the shadows, but the skylark didn't stop. Every beat of her wings carried a mix of fear and hope, pulling her deeper into the gloom she once avoided. She didn't know where the bird was or what the bright force had done to him, but she refused to let the silence swallow her. Somewhere in the darkness, she believed he was still fighting, still trying to rise. And even if the whole sky turned against her, she would keep searching until her wings gave out, because she wanted to feel the same joy as before, not loneliness.