Volant Pour Pc

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

My dad is the youngest ace pilot in the country. He's equipped with extremely stellar piloting skills. But on the day my mom suffers from a sudden heart attack and desperately needs to transfer hospitals, he refuses to fly her out with the excuse that the weather is terrible. Later on, someone records Dad flying a private jet just to scatter flower petals from a high altitude on a sunny day in order to celebrate the birthday of another woman's daughter. Meanwhile, my mom ends up dying on the stretcher while waiting to be saved. He didn't even show up, right up until the burial. For the next 20 years, my uncle has to take on cab orders every night just to put me through flight school. The day I become the youngest chief examiner of the Federal Aviation Administration, an airline delivers to me the file of a piloting prodigy for a captain upgrade assessment. The CEO of the airline is present as the guarantor of said pilot candidate. He puts himself in a very humble position when he addresses me. "Mr. Lowe, this young woman is extremely talented. If you drop your signature now, she will become the youngest pilot ever." I flip through the candidate's piloting resume. When my eyes fall on the list of her family members and her emergency contact, I'm stunned for a moment. Then, I stare at the young woman's photo for a very long time. Finally, I close the file and state softly, "Sorry. I won't approve her evaluation."

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

On his birthday, Ravi Lazy Arsenio asked for an original plea while blowing out candles on a birthday cake to bring down an angel in his life. When Ravi headed to his room the same day he was startled by a strange man being in his room wearing only leather trousers. The man named Raymond said that his life belonged to Ravi whose purpose of his arrival was to take care of Ravi as well as help him in all of Ravi's lazy daily life, evidenced by a large tattoo bearing Ravi's name on his chest. Ravi wants to report it to the police but undoes his intentions when he finds out there's a big secret they have to cover up about Raymond that comes out of nowhere. Plus Raymond's behavior like children under five years old who cry easily, there is something that surprises Ravi is that he has big wings, black and soft, coming out of his back. Not only that, Raymond always shoots scents that almost make Ravi lose control of himself. Raymond's arrival also makes Ravi's life more complicated than before which leads him into a big problem that Ravi never imagined. Who exactly is Raymond? What is the real purpose? What dark past did Raymond and his family try to hide from Ravi all along?

Maeve Thalorien spent five years in a cell for a crime she doesn't remember committing. They called her parents traitors. Said they betrayed the kingdom. And then they erased them. On the day she turns twenty, Maeve is released-not as a free woman, but as a weapon. Sent straight into Aetherion Academy, where bonded beasts choose their riders and the kingdom's deadliest heirs are forged. Some bond with phoenixes. Some with wolves. Some with creatures powerful enough to burn cities to ash. But the most dangerous bonds were the ones that vanished after the war. Maeve was taught they turned on humanity. That they were lost. Uncontrollable. Evil. She was taught a lot of things. And the sky has a habit of remembering what people try to forget. The moment Maeve steps into the academy, the lies begin to crack. Whispers follow her name. The Viremont heir watches her like a problem he can't solve. And something ancient stirs beneath the world-something that should not exist anymore. Because when the bonding ceremony begins... the sky remembers her. And so does what it was never meant to give back. Some bonds are chosen. Some are forced. And some were never supposed to return at all.

Ximara has always been judged—by her parents, society, and, most importantly, by herself. With curves that invite whispers and a spirit slowly eroded by those who claim to love her, she decides to escape. Fleeing an arranged marriage and a life of scorn, she seeks refuge in New York City with her grandfather, Alister, the only person who recognizes her worth. But even as she rebuilds her life, her past haunts her. When a chance meeting with Arthur Vance, a charismatic celebrity racer, results in public betrayal, Ximara's fragile confidence is shattered. Desperate to get out of the pain, she falls into a dangerous cycle of self-doubt, unaware that she is being watched. Her mysterious neighbor, a man only known as Z, appears in the darkest moments, as if he knows her secrets and has always known them. Z is not the person he appears to be. He's been watching Ximara for longer than she realizes, driven by an obsession he can't control or understand. In a world that wants to break them, can two wounded souls teach each other to fly—or will their secrets destroy them both?