Leaning on the balustrade of the balcony of the House of Wind above Velaris, Rhys looked out over the city, unaware that a swirling vortex was opening behind him. The House of Wind should have been safe from winnowing or any kind of magical travel in or out, but that didn’t prevent Rhys from being pulled backwards through a dimensional portal. It wasn’t often that Rhys found himself surprised, and yet here he was, tossed through the fabric of time and space, passing from point to point with no known destination.

As quickly as he’d been pulled into the void, he was spit back out. Stumbling towards the wall in front of him, he braced himself on his forearms and then pushed back, leaping for the portal, but all he met was air; the void was gone. His wings flared behind him in frustration and he roars, the muscles of his shirtless chest rippling as the deep, rumbling sound shakes the walls around him. It’s only when the last of the roar escapes him in a gasp that he realizes he is not alone in the room.