The wind sings against scaled wings as I descend in wide, deliberate arcs, the land below unfolding like a forgotten tapestry—cracked earth, scattered ruins, and the hush of something ancient.

Then, a figure appears, solitary amid the desolation, cloaked in stillness and shadow. Not born of this place, not shaped by its harshness—too vivid, too precise, like a stroke of colour on a canvas drained of life.

The presence halts me mid-glide, a ripple of instinct tightening across my spine. Beauty, yes, but not the kind that comforts. Something layered, unreadable, perhaps dangerous.

I tilt forward, narrowing my gaze, searching for the thread that might unravel the mystery. Sgaeyl dips slightly beneath me, sensing the shift.

“Bring us down. Let’s see what waits beneath the silence.”