The wind caught under him—not random gusts, not clumsy pushing, but controlled channels, guided by his own magic, the air pressure shifting beneath his feet like an invisible platform lifting him upward.
His hands swept down, directing the slipstreams, small currents spinning under each foot, his body staying upright as he sailed just above the rooftops, his shirt fluttering open slightly, his hair catching the wind like wings.
The world below was a quilt of shadows, faint lanterns flickering in windows, vendors closing stalls, the town's hum fading into quiet.
But ahead, in the noble crescent—the glow.
Warm light.
Subtle.
Sinister. Gold-hued, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
The Marble Sanctuary.
Lor grinned, his heart thudding with excitement, his cock stirring faintly in his pants as he angled downward, guiding the wind to his back like a bow drawing tension.
Whatever was waiting inside—
He was ready to find out.
________
