The wind howled across the floating islands as Vaelric continued his journey.
His movements remained swift, but they no longer possessed the effortless speed they had only moments earlier. Each leap from one island to the next demanded noticeably more from him, and every landing sent a dull ache through muscles that had already been pushed beyond what an eight-year-old body should have endured.
The battle with Skyrend's guardian had not been a simple exchange of blows.
He had fought someone who possessed his own instincts, matched his speed, and forced him to draw upon both the Storm God's lightning and Ignarion's divine flames before victory had finally become possible.
Even now, the lingering soreness reminded him of every collision.
Lightning still flickered faintly around his boots each time he landed, but it lacked the wild vitality it had displayed earlier.
After another leap, Vaelric landed upon a narrow ridge overlooking a valley suspended among the clouds.
