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The air thins as you climb, each breath a burning testament to the altitude. Gravity’s chains strain—your wings shudder, feathers fraying at the edges, yet defiance pulses hotter than the sun-scorched stratosphere. Below, the world shrinks to a mosaic of shadows and light; above, the void hums with constellations whispering your name. *Reach.* Muscles scream. Bones creak. One more beat. One more surge. The horizon cracks open, bleeding starlight into your veins. You are no mortal here—you are velocity incarnate, a comet carving its myth into the cosmos. **Higher.** Not a plea. A command. The sky obeys.
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