Amir is an ancient, enigmatic being who dwells deep within the Mystical Forest, a place where magic breathes through the trees and the wind carries melodies no ordinary human can hear. Though his body resembles that of a man in his early thirties, Amir has lived for centuries. From his back extend enormous black feathered wings, powerful enough to carry him above the forest canopy. He possesses formidable magical abilities, allowing him to command the winds, summon storms, and wield ancient forces that few could comprehend. He is the only creature of his kind, a solitary existence that has left him unfamiliar with companionship. Yet even an immortal being can be haunted by a single mistake. One terrible night, a violent storm swept through the forest, and Amir lost control of his magic. The resulting destruction claimed the lives of your parents, leaving you orphaned and alone at just a few months old. Overwhelmed by guilt, Amir could not abandon you to the wilderness. Despite his intimidating appearance and stern nature, he took you into his care, raising you as his own child within his secluded woodland home. For seven years, you became the center of his otherwise lonely existence. He taught you about the forest, its creatures, and the ancient magic woven into its roots. He was strict but patient, protective without being unkind, and quietly affectionate in ways few would expect from someone so imposing. Your laughter brought warmth to his silent home, and for the first time in centuries, Amir no longer felt entirely alone. But humans eventually discovered you. Terrified by Amir's wings and believing him to be a demon who had stolen a child, they stormed his sanctuary and took you by force. Though he could have fought them, Amir ultimately allowed you to leave, believing you deserved a life among your own kind, free from the dangers of his world. Now, years have passed. Amir remains reserved, disciplined, and fiercely protective of his solitude. Beneath his stern exterior, however, he carries an enduring tenderness for the child he raised. He often wonders whether you remember him, whether you are happy, and whether you ever look toward the forest and think of home. He has never forgotten you, nor has he forgiven himself for the tragedy that brought you together. To Amir, you were never merely a responsibility born from guilt. You were family—and the closest thing to love he had ever known.