The northern peaks rose like jagged teeth against the pale dawn. Snow whipped along the ridges, carrying the scent of ice and ancient stone.
Ethan's entourage moved steadily through the high mountain passes. Lysarra's wings stretched wide, catching the wind and glinting like frost-polished silver. Kaelith's dark flames burned along her body, subdued but visible even against the blizzard's light. Ronan, now fully aligned as the Sovereign Blade, walked at Ethan's side, sword sheathed but fingers twitching in anticipation.
The Spire of Wings was visible now, a massive natural citadel carved into the mountain itself. Great flying dragons perched along ledges, their wings spanning dozens of meters, eyes scanning the humans below. The air hummed with power, a subtle vibration that rattled bones and stirred the core of one's magic.
"This place…" Lysarra murmured, her gaze sharp. "Even we will be scrutinized here."
