High above the wastelands, the wind howls past Alix as he rides on Zevran's back. The dragon's wings slice through the clouds, each beat echoing like thunder through the vast open sky. Below them, the land stretches endlessly—green plains burned to ash, rivers turned muddy from battle, and the faint outlines of ruined walls far in the distance.
Alix narrows his eyes. "That must be it," he murmurs. "The city."
Zevran glances back, his smaller, sleek head glinting under the sunlight. "Do you wish me to descend, Master?"
"Yeah. But return to your small form first."
The dragon lets out a faint hum, and in an instant, his massive body shimmers—shrinking down until he's barely the size of a kitten again. He lands lightly on Alix's shoulder, curling his tail around Alix's neck like a scarf.
Alix hovers in the air for a moment, his own mana flaring softly beneath his feet. Then, he descends.
