The formal request arrived on Monday: Astraea was to attend a "Developmental Interview" at Association Headquarters, conducted by Evaluator Briggs and observed by Hunter Kestrel. The notice stressed it was "routine" for advanced program candidates, but the inclusion of Kestrel as observer told a different story.

  Mrs. Evans fretted over outfits and packed a snack bag. "Just be yourself, sweetie. Answer their questions honestly."

  If only it were that simple.

  The interview room was smaller than the testing chamber, designed to be less intimidating. A table, three chairs. Briggs sat on one side, Kestrel stood quietly in the corner, a tablet in hand, his presence like a silent underscore.

  "Astraea," Briggs began, his smile professional. "Thank you for coming. This is just a conversation. We want to understand your experiences better as you transition to the advanced program."

  Astraea nodded, sitting carefully. Her wings pressed against the glamour, a constant reminder of what she was hiding.

  "Let's start with your history," Briggs said, opening a file. "Your records show you entered the system four years ago, found near Gate Theta-12. Do you remember anything from before that?"

  The first test. She'd prepared for this.

  "Not really," she said, which was true from a certain perspective---she didn't remember being a human child. "It's fuzzy. I remember being alone. And then people in uniforms. Then Mrs. Evans."

  "No family? No names?"

  "No." Also true.

  Briggs made a note. "And since then, you've shown remarkable development. Your sparkle control is exceptional. Your knowledge base is... extensive for your age. How do you explain that?"

  "I read a lot," Astraea said. "And I practice."

  "You practice sparkles for hours?"

  "Yes." True.

  "What about historical facts? The Concordance wars, for example. That's not in children's books."

  Here it was. "I had a dream," she said, sticking to the story. "It felt real. Maybe I read something and forgot, and it came back in a dream."

  Briggs' eyes narrowed slightly. He'd heard this before. He didn't believe it.

  Kestrel, in the corner, shifted slightly. A small movement, but Astraea caught it. Was it encouragement? Warning?

  "Dreams," Briggs repeated. "You have a lot of vivid dreams, according to your foster mother."

  "Sometimes."

  "About flying?"

  The question was a dart, aimed true. Astraea kept her breathing even. "Sometimes. Doesn't everyone dream about flying?"

  "Not with silver wings," Briggs said softly.

  Silence.

  Astraea felt the glamour tremble. She reinforced it, muscle by muscle, scale by scale. "I don't remember the color."

  A weak deflection. Briggs let it pass, moving on. "Your physical growth has been accelerated. The medical assessment noted unusual cellular structures. Your mana signature is... consistently coherent in a way we don't see in human Awakened. It's almost as if your body is designed to process mana at the cellular level."

  He was circling the truth. Not stating it, but outlining its shape.

  "I don't know what that means," Astraea said, which was technically true---she didn't know what human science called dragon biology.

  "It means you're unique," Briggs said, his tone shifting from probing to something almost... reverent. "And unique things are valuable. They need to be protected. Studied. Understood."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  The word "studied" hung in the air. It sounded like "dissected."

  "The advanced program will provide that protection," Briggs continued. "And that understanding. We'll help you discover what you are."

  What you are. Not who. What.

  The interview continued for an hour. Briggs asked about her friendships (she mentioned Leo and Mia), her interests (botany, history), her feelings about her rapid growth ("It's fine, I guess"). Standard questions, but each one felt layered, like he was looking for cracks.

  Through it all, Kestrel watched. He never spoke. But his presence was a weight in the room. Astraea found herself glancing at him occasionally, searching for some sign. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes... his eyes were tracking everything. The slight stiffness in her posture from compressed wings. The way her pupils wanted to slit when Briggs asked about flying. The silver shimmer that sometimes leaked through her glamour at the temples.

  He saw it all. And he said nothing.

  Near the end, Briggs asked the question she'd been dreading. "If you could be anything, Astraea, not limited by what you are now... what would you be?"

  It was a child's question. A fantasy question. But the way he asked it---leaning forward, his eyes intent---made it something else. A probe into her deepest self.

  She answered with the truth, because sometimes truth is the best disguise for a bigger truth. "I'd like to be... bigger. Stronger. To be able to go where I want. To not have to hide."

  The words slipped out before she could filter them. To not have to hide.

  Briggs' eyebrows rose. "Hide? Do you feel like you're hiding?"

  "Everyone hides sometimes," she said quickly, covering. "Kids hide when they're scared. Or when they've done something wrong."

  "Have you done something wrong?"

  "No." That, at least, was true. Being a dragon wasn't wrong. It just was.

  Briggs sat back, seeming unsatisfied but unable to press further. He closed his folder. "Well. Thank you for your honesty, Astraea. The advanced program will be a place where you don't have to hide. Where you can explore your full potential."

  The words were meant to reassure. They felt like a sentence.

  As she stood to leave, Kestrel finally moved. He stepped forward, opening the door for her. As she passed, his voice, so low only she could hear, murmured, "Careful, little bird. The cage has pretty decorations."

  Then the door closed behind her, and she was back in the hallway with Mrs. Evans, who hugged her and asked how it went.

  "Fine," Astraea said, her mind racing. Little bird. He knew she wasn't a bird. But he'd used the metaphor. A creature meant for sky, kept in a cage. A cage with pretty decorations---the advanced program, the special attention, the "opportunities."

  Kestrel had just warned her that the very thing being offered as a reward was the trap.

  That night in the sanctuary, she let her wings out fully, stretching them until the joints protested. The need to fly, to escape, was a physical ache.

  Leo joined her, his face serious. "Briggs filed his post-interview report. Classification recommendation: 'Anomalous Developmental Case - Type Unknown.' He's advocating for 'contained study environment'---basically, moving you to a residential program at Headquarters."

  The cage.

  "Kestrel filed a minority report," Leo continued. "Recommending 'field observation in natural habitat' with 'minimal intervention.' He argued that removing you from your support system---Mrs. Evans, CYAP, your friends---would be detrimental to your development."

  Kestrel was fighting for her. Or for her continued observation in the wild. It was hard to tell.

  "What happens now?" Astraea asked, her wings folding tight with anxiety.

  "The review board decides in a week. Briggs' recommendation carries weight. But Kestrel's dissent will be noted. It might buy time."

  Time. The one thing she'd had too much of, and now needed more of.

  She looked at the moonthread plant she'd brought to the sanctuary. It was thriving, its crystals larger, glowing with stored mana. A piece of her truth, growing in secret.

  "I need to be ready," she said, more to herself than to Leo.

  "Ready for what?"

  "For whatever happens. If they try to put me in a cage..." She flexed her wings, silver gleaming in the dark. "I need to be able to fly away."

  The words hung between them. A declaration. After four centuries of patience, of waiting, of hiding... the thought of fighting back, of fleeing, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

  Leo nodded, his scientific mind already calculating. "Then we prepare. We increase your flight capability. We expand your mana stockpile. We plan extraction routes."

  We. He said we.

  Astraea looked at her friend, this small human with a brilliant mind and a green finger that could barely glow. He was willing to help a dragon prepare to flee the only home she'd known in this era.

  Her throat tightened. "Thank you, Leo."

  "You're my friend," he said simply. "And friends don't let friends get put in boxes. Or cages."

  The interview was over. The lines were drawn. Briggs wanted to study her. Kestrel wanted to... understand her? Protect her? The board would decide.

  And Astraea, for the first time since the famine ended, was preparing not just to hide, but to run.

  [System notification]

  [Critical decision point approaching: Containment vs. Freedom]

  [User's desire for autonomy detected: High]

  [Recommendation: Strengthen evasion skills. Expand resource network. Identify safe havens.]

  [Note: The best adventures sometimes require leaving the familiar behind!]

  The System was preparing her for an adventure. Or an escape.

  Astraea looked at her wings, at the sanctuary that had become her secret aerie, at the friend standing beside her.

  She had a week.

  A week to prepare to either enter a gilded cage.

  Or to finally, fully, take to the skies.

  Core pressure: 65%

  Wing development: Phase 6.5 (flight endurance: 8 minutes sustained)

  Human camouflage: 77.3% effective (degrading under stress)

  Decision timeline: 7 days until review board ruling.