The Vermillion Phoenix soared high above the world, its great wings cleaving the clouds like a ship through waves. Each stroke of its crimson feathers shimmered with heat, leaving faint trails of golden sparks that quickly faded into the sky.
Below, the land unfolded like a painted scroll—patchwork fields in greens and golds, rivers winding like molten silver, and distant forests so vast they looked like emerald oceans. Mountain peaks jutted through the clouds like the spines of some ancient beast, their snowcaps catching the sun in blinding flashes. The wind was sharp, carrying the cold bite of altitude, yet tinged with the faint fragrance of wildflowers carried up from valleys far below.
Luca leaned forward slightly, raising his voice over the rush of air.
"Your Majesty, this isn't the route to the academy. Where are we going?"
