Prolouge.

As Dylan soars high above the fluffy white clouds, slowly turning a shade darker, he remembers the time when he was young. He imagines how different his life would be if, on that mid-October night, he hadn't run off to the park to escape his awful foster parents. He wouldn't have known what special, but the dangerous gift he holds.

Dylan Sinclair can fly.

Dylan first found out about his ability when he was just a child. His parents had died right after he was born, and with no known relatives to hand him off to, he was thrown into the foster program. He was mostly a shy kid, staying to himself. Over the years, parents tossed him from person to person. At age seven, he was met with two parents that would become his worst nightmare.

They would force him to work all hours of the night till sweat was pouring down his face. His eyes would be red from all the tears that he spilled in his old, no mattress, wooden bed. One night, his foster father had slapped him across the face. Tears pricked the back of his eyes as his small legs carried him out the door as fast as they could.

That was the day he found Skyhill park.

The park was old, having not been touched in what seemed like years. It was hidden amongst the strongest and tallest of trees. The paint was beginning to chip, but Dylan didn't care. It was away from his foster parents, and that's what made him fall in love with it.

One night, Dylan was terrified. His foster dad had come in and seen his wife with another man. He started to throw things, making Dylan scurry to his room. He laid on his bed for around an hour, panting heavily as he covered his ears from the yells of anger from both sides.

Dylan quietly got out of bed, the wood creaking underneath him. He cringed softly, his eyelids folding tightly over his icy blue eyes. He sighed in relief as he didn't hear anyone coming from his room. He had to keep his park a secret. He crept over to his window, easing it upward. It had become easy to do this since Dylan snuck out almost every night.

He leaped out of the window, softly closing it behind him before turning on his heels and running to his favorite place. The wind ripples through his old, dirty tan pajamas, also forcing his dirty blonde hair away from his face, causing him to squint from the harshness of the wind.

Dylan finally arrived at the park, a bright smile taking over his features. He looked around the park, not sure what to play on tonight. He licked his dry lips, his eyes catching the monkey bars. The blue paint was barely hanging on, making the metal color visible. He giggles, imagining himself on top of them and having the time of his life.

He ran over to the small ladder, his feet scrambling up each step. He then gripped onto the cool bar tightly, swinging his feet onto the next bar, and fitting his small body through the gap on the bars. He sighed happily, looking over at his park from a new angle. He had played on these monkey bars before, but he had never gotten on top of them...

Dylan turned his body so his feet were hanging off of the edge. He stayed in this position for a while, enjoying being by himself, the cool breeze brushing his face gently, in almost a comforting manner. He closed his eyes in bliss, leaning into the breeze.

After around an hour of just sitting on the bars, enjoying his time at the park, Dylan knew he had to get home. He pushed himself onto the edge more, looking down at the ground. It was a far jump. He bit his lip in nervousness, scared to jump down. But, he didn't see another way.

Dylan looked around, trying to find a way where it wouldn't hurt if this went wrong. His young mind came up with the idea that if he got on his side and rolled off, he would be okay. So, that's what he did. He got onto his right side, his front facing the edge of the monkey bars. He gulped thickly, before pushing himself off.

His body twisted once in the air, making it so his front was facing the ground. He opened his eyes in terror, seeing himself about to hit the ground. He closed his eyes tightly once more, bracing for the impact.

One.

Two.

Three.

Where was the ground?

Dylan furrowed his eyebrows, slowly opening his eyes. The ground was right there, only... he was floating over it. He looked behind him, thinking maybe someone was holding him up. There, he found two, pure white, feathery wings. There were much larger than his body, giving soft flaps to keep him floating. He found himself wanting to scream, but held it back. He looked back to the ground, realizing he was safe. Once he did, he fell onto the ground. It stung a bit, but he was close enough to the ground where it didn't do any damage.

He scurried to his feet, whimpering softly in confusion, before turning and running back to his room, not sure what just happened to him.

This was the first time Dylan Sinclair found out what he could do. The first time he found out how powerful the wings that came out of his back really were. Every time he went back to the park, he would climb onto the monkey bars and fall off, trying to get his wings to arise out of his skin. It took him two months, but by then, he could control when to get his wings, and when to put them away.

Dylan knew no one else could do this, even as a kid. He knew he had to keep this a secret, just like his park. He didn't want to think about what people would do if they knew he had this ability. His foster parents would probably sell him off as some sort of pet.

He was happy that he was different. That he was special. What he didn't know, was he was going to hate being this way.