Vincent never realized how incredible seeing Admoran from above was. They had spent days fleeing the zeffyr and he did not have time to give one thought to the beauty of the land they flew over. It was a view he did not deserve. For a while, the terrain below remained soft and hilly. However, the hills became mountains and there were none like them on Earth. They rose from the land like waves that had been frozen in stone, caught moments before they were about to crash in on themselves. Their faces were hollowed out and concave, with their peaks curling over, adding to this illusion. Vincent could not think of any tectonic action that could create such formations.

  The air was growing cooler and thinner the further they flew. Down below, he could see roads weaving between the mountains, filled with travelers. Villages dotted the mountainsides. They took a brief respite that evening in an alcove surrounded by a veins of crystal. The others stretched and massaged their shoulders. Sperloc, glowering, chewed on unspoken expletives. There was a beating of wings against air as Madeen joined them. She walked over to Glimmer, ducked her head and closed her eyes. She kept them closed for a second before opening again. Glimmer returned the gesture. His beak was open and he was panting.

  Glimmer tapped out a rhythm on the ground, a series of clicks and scratches. Madeen responded in kind. It was a language, there was no doubt about that. But Vincent's translation ability was only able to understand a few words. "Tunnel." "Draft." "Breath." It was the first time his mysterious ability struggled with a language. Perhaps it was because it wasn't spoken word? Sperloc listened intently. He appeared to understand the exchange of words. But the discussion made him groan.

  "What?" Menik asked.

  "They want to ride Admoran's Breath to the South Gate at Gullreach," he said. "I am too old for this shit."

  "Oh!" Tuls exclaimed with excitement, "The wind caves! I have heard of them!"

  "What's Admoran's Breath?" Vincent asked.

  "There are vast tunnels and cavernous systems around Gullreach," Menik said, "They are constantly filled with strong warm winds, coming from deep underground. Nobody knows where they are coming from, right Sper?"

  "Yes, yes, they come from deep within the damn ground," Sperloc said, "Nobody knows from where. The current is called 'Admoran's Breath' by the locals because it is damp and warm. The zerok sometimes use these systems as shortcuts because the winds aid their flight. And it sounds like it will be easier for the Shaydos to ride them than to fly the rest of the way. They are still ill and weak. They–what are you grinning at?"

  Tuls could barely hide his excitement. "We are going to ride Admoran's Breath, Brother! It is something I have always wanted to do! I know the circumstances are dire and so I should not make light of it…but I cannot help it! This is a new thing!"

  "Smile to your heart's content!" Sperloc snapped, "You will not be smiling when you empty the contents of your stomach all over your chest and the wind blows the streams of sick down your pants."

  The flight to one of these tunnels was brief. In fact, it could not have taken more than twenty minutes to reach one. The opening to the cave, wide enough to accommodate three zerok side by side, was like a maw yawning in the mountainside. When they reached it, Vincent, Menik, and the others had to walk into it on foot, followed closely by their zerok escorts. The fliers' footsteps echoed off the cavern walls. Glimmer's panting resonated throughout the passage. Vincent heard a distance rush of air and felt wind at his back, as if the cave was sucking them in. Somebody ignited a spark and sent it ahead of them.

  "We will not need that," Sperloc said.

  "I do not have a zerok's sight, Sper," Madrian countered, "I cannot see where I am going."

  "I am aware of that, I am just saying you will not need that when we reach the current. In fact, you will lose the spark if you try to wield it."

  "You sound like you have ridden one of these, Sper." Menik said.

  "I have...once," he said.

  Glimmer walked behind Vincent, his trio of channeler-eyes bobbing in the darkness. As they traveled deeper into the cave, it widened, opening up into a cavern that more than rivaled Carlsbad with its scale. The distant wind grew louder and the pressure changed with it. Vincent could feel his ears popping. Eventually, they came upon a massive drop, a gargantuan pit that fell for a hundred feet and disappeared into darkness. It was from here that the air rushed.

  He now understood why some would call it "Admoran's Breath". It was warm and it was filled with dampness. There was a smell in it too, a subtle scent not unlike broken earth. It rushed up at them like an endless squall, a never-ending hurricane that caused the caverns to reverberate and groan. It disappeared into a tunnel directly above them. The sound was nearly deafening. The wind caught his wings and knocked him backward, but Glimmer caught him in his beak and steadied him upright.

  "Thank you," Vincent tried to say, but he couldn't hear his own words. He couldn't even hear his own thoughts. The idea of flying off into the darkness was a terrifying one. There were a few worn out banners tied to posts that were driven into the ledge. They flapped wildly in the currents. There were words on the banners, but he could not read them. His mastery of languages did not extend to the written word.

  Menik stepped forward and looked over the ledge. Then he looked back at his escort, nodded and raised his arms. The zerok picked him up, spread its wings and leapt into the wind. To Vincent's disbelief and terror, they were swept right up. Sperloc was next, followed by Madrian, who held onto his still-lit spark. Vincent felt Glimmer nudge his back. Swearing to himself, he spread his arms and allowed himself to be picked up. The zerok took him and leapt into the current. They were immediately sucked up into a large winding tunnel that burrowed through the mountain's stone. It rose, it dived, then it rose again. The tunnel turned right, then it turned left. Sometimes it split, but Glimmer banked and followed the others. Madrian's distant sparked chased shadows along the walls, creating dazzling displays as they passed by columns of crystal and minerals.

  There were no stalactites in this system. No water that seeped through the stones was allowed to hang. Instead, it was blasted away. So instead of stalactites and stalagmites, deposits raced along the walls, creating wind-blasted striations of calcite that followed the direction of the current. They made the tunnels resemble molten candle wax.

  Vincent held his breath as they rushed through the darkness. Glimmer rarely flapped his wings. He simply rode the air current and banked as needed. Sometimes they would come upon another channel that was blowing more of the warm damp air, and they would get caught in conflicting eddies at the confluence. But the zerok were masters of this system. They knew exactly where to go, where to duck and weave. Vincent kept worrying that the tunnels, which always remained at least seventy or so feet wide, would narrow, that the zerok would find themselves smashed against stone. But this never happened. Admoran's Breath was like a surge, a wave upon which the fliers of Gullreach surfed. It propelled them onward.

  They rode the current for several hours, traveling at unbelievable speeds. The journey was rough and the g-forces Vincent was subjected to at times, tested him. Sperloc was right. Somebody could easily lose their lunch. Vincent was not prone to motion sickness but even he felt a little nauseous. But there were few opportunities to stop. The zerok were traveling too fast. They could not break or slow down on their own.

  There were short reprieves where the caverns widened and the current slowed. Sometimes the air escaped into unseen passages and the pressure lowered. Then, they had to walk until they found another channel and caught another stream. In fact, Tuls fell over laughing with glee at the first of these interludes. Sperloc, in contrast, was buckled over with his hands on his knees, panting.

  These reprieves were a welcome break from the tumult. But for the most part, the Shaydos were at the mercy of Admoran's Breath and its howling passages. Vincent wondered if they would be trapped down here forever, rushing through this endless labyrinth of wailing wind. Eventually, they found another lapse in the air current that forced them to walk for a bit. He was tempted to ask his hosts to take a break. But he bit his tongue.

  "Madeen," Menik said as they walked to the next air stream, "I heard Gullreach is being overwhelmed by refugees. They are pouring through the South Gate?"

  True. Devastation. Unhomed. Death increases.

  Vincent could barely see her feathered shape in the darkness.

  "Death increases?" he repeated what he thought she projected. Often times the zerok mind speak was not literal. Rather, they tried to convey meanings it seemed.

  "The stormspawn ravaged more villages than we ever could have imagined," Menik explained, "That's what they were saying back at the High Channeler's caravan. Every day we are learning about the true scale of the Puppeteer's destruction."

  "And now we have the scarheads sending zeffyrs after us," Jeris said.

  Vincent didn't say anything. He kept expecting that thing to burst through the walls and consume him in its fiery maw. He felt so numb and so tired. He just wanted it all to end. He just wanted a break.

  "Vincent," Tuls said, "are you well?"

  "I'll be fine," Vincent said.

  "Endure, friend. I do not believe we will be down here much longer."

  They found another air stream and took flight and Tuls' prediction turned out to be prescient. Without much warning, the wind shot them back up to the surface. They left the howling caves behind and took to the air. After spending so long riding the damp, yet lukewarm currents, the sudden chill was a shock to the system. They found themselves at the bottom of a pass. A large highway followed its curves and it was filled with lantern lights from caravans and travelers.

  The Shaydos took a break at a river to quench their thirst. Vincent watched the travelers from afar. There were many battered wagons and haunted eyes in the crowd, possibly the refugees Menik spoke of. Some of their wagons appeared to be on the verge of falling apart. But there were also merchants and diplomats, distinguished by their colorful carriages as well as the crystal lanterns that illuminated them. A few of them had seen the Shaydos fly down, carrying groundwalkers in their talons. They stopped to point and mutter before the crowd forced them onward.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Stars glinted in the night sky and yet, the mountain tops gleamed. Something illuminated their peaks, a light source Vincent could not see. Moonlight perhaps? No…Falius had no moon. It had Niftel and Tarn, the planets. And their light was Purple and Crimson respectively, not white. Yet something illuminated the mountains nonetheless. In the distance, the highway began to rise as it followed the pass. It was a steep ascent and it rose for hundreds, perhaps even a thousand feet. Vincent could not judge scale very well.

  At its apex, which passed through a narrow gap between two mountains, there was an enormous arch carved from stone. It had to be at least two hundred feet in diameter. It rose from one side of the road, curved over, and came down the other side, nearly forming a ring. A statue of a zerok stood on top of the parabola, posing proud on its talons with wings spread. Its backside was illuminated by the same source of light that lit up the mountaintops, creating penumbras in the fog from its shadow. The light poured through the arch's center as if beckoning the travelers forward, making them look like wayward souls with their lanterns bobbing, trying to find their way to the afterlife.

  When the Shaydos had quenched their thirst, they picked up their riders and took flight. Glimmer climbed toward the arch and the travelers below looked up in curiosity. The fliers soared above, their shadows elongating in the fog as they neared the arch. When they passed through it, Vincent felt his jaw part. The mountainous region abruptly flattened. The last of the mountains seemed to kneel, as if hesitant to encroach upon the expansive land that stood before them. They gave way to soft hills and rolling meadows. Vincent could see lights from a vast city winking in the distance. But it was the feature in the middle of this city that left him breathless.

  If one were to record a water droplet in slow motion and freeze frame the moment when it splashes into a bigger body of water, they would see that at the moment of contact, the splash blooms outward. The water buckles and a singular ripple rises in a circular wall around the droplet. That was what the land was doing. It was frozen in mid-splash. Cliffs suddenly bloomed upward and outward, circling a towering spire of white crystal, as if this tower were the droplet itself. The crystal was far taller than the cliffs were, taller than the mountains themselves. It stabbed upwards with thousands and thousands of columns toward the sky, all of them tapered toward a single point. The spire dominated the vista and glimmered with a warm white ambience. Gullreach stood before them, proud and welcoming. Shimmering lakes and wide rivers reflected its majesty.

  As the Shaydos flew toward it, the spire sparkled and threw out rays. Vincent could not take his eyes off of it. The closer they got, the sheer scale of the shard left him reeling. And to his continued amazement, he saw vines hugging the cliffs, each as thick as an interstice thread . Branches sprung forth from them, extending from the cliff face. These vines crept outward from the base of the spire, extending into a city, which laid spread out across the land surrounding, the spire almost like an afterthought. It was scattered along lesser upheavals that interrupted the flat terrain, which also rose like concentric circles around the base of the mountain. Thousands of zerok filled the air, flying to and from the cliffs and perching on the massive branches.

  The Shaydos began their descent, but they did not head toward the spire. Rather, they headed toward the city at its base. Unlike Meldohv Syredel, whose architecture resembled a cross between Persian and Celtic influence, Gullreach's buildings were reminiscent of Asian design. Tile roofs swooped over red pillars and bleached stone. The structures harmonized with the land and stood like extensions of the sand-colored upheavals it found itself built upon. The structures favored bilateral symmetry and repeating patterns.

  There were plenty of zerok perches scattered throughout the city, similar to the dome-shaped cages Vincent saw back in Meldohv Syredel. Wooden rails ran throughout so that no matter where you were in the city, there was always a place for a zerok to rest.

  The Shaydos circled a large complex that resided on top of a cliff. Resembling a palace with a campus attached, the structure was built from white stone. It had numerous courtyards. They descended over one of them, beat their wings and held themselves aloft while releasing Vincent and the others. He stumbled forward and massaged his arms, then he looked around in awe. Lining the courtyard were impressive stone and crystal depictions of zeroks and groundwalkers living in harmony. Dragon children and zerok cubs pawed at each other curiously. In another, three groundwalkers treated a zerok's wounded wing. There were several more busts like this, depicting both conflict and friendship.

  The courtyard had several trees planted in it whose shape resembled cherry blossoms. Yet oddly enough, they looked almost barren. Instead of leaves, they had these strange, curled-up buds. The grass was the same way. It looked nothing like the grass Vincent was used to. Its blades were folded into themselves lengthwise, making them resemble a bunch of tubes. And they were black instead of green. There were some flowers in a vase. They too, shared the same, strange curled up leaves. Nearly all the vegetation Vincent saw was this way. It looked desolate.

  Somebody opened the door at the far end of the courtyard and headed toward them. This newcomer was the fluffiest Falian Vincent had seen yet. Very few of the dragonoids he had met had fur or manes. Most of them simply looked reptilian. So it was a bit of a shock to see one walking toward him. His snout was narrow, his scales were white and had the sheen of pearls. A long, silvery mane ran over the top of his snout like a horse's mane and it licked at his shoulders. Two small, fleshy whiskers not unlike Thal'rin's hung from the side of his nostrils and a goatee adorned his chin. His horns, though covered by a black horn guard, curled upward and outward like Ezrai's. His tail, trailing behind him, also had the same silvery fur striping the top of its length. He was flanked by several guards.

  "Greetings, shandan," he said. His voice, filled with calm confidence, was also light and airy. "My name is Gelani. Welcome to Gullreach."

  He folded his wings in front of him. Then he looked around at the battered soldiers, his thin yellow eyes emoting no surprise. Though he paused on Vincent for a second or two.

  "Gelani, son of Entalagon," Sperloc said, "Tender of the Wounded Wings."

  Gelani raised a brow. "Impressive," he said. "The fact that you know of my father and my lineage…you must be Sperloc?"

  "That I am," Sperloc rasped.

  "I have heard that you were accompanying the expedition to Crefield and that you were in this cabras, " Gelani said, "As a lover of history, I am an admirer of your work. I would love to hear your stories, if there is ever time."

  There was a calming effect to Gelani's diction. His poise was eloquent and his words, light as feathers, trickled from him. He appeared to be the embodiment of zen.

  "Is this the Monastery of Atla?" Tuls asked in disbelief.

  "Indeed, it is," Gelani confirmed, "We have been expecting your arrival for several days now."

  Menik laughed to himself while Vincent continued to look around.

  "Unbelievable. Who is paying for this?" Madrian asked.

  Now it was Gelani's turn to chuckle, "Gullreach and Meldohv Syredel are your benefactors. The heroes of Crefield deserve to rest."

  Madeen stepped forward and made eye contact with him. His ears twitched as he listened to he projections.

  "I see. Very well, and thank you," he said. After this, Madeen took flight.

  Then Glimmer stepped forward and tapped the ground with his talons.

  "Ah…yes," Gelani said, "We will take care of them from here. Thank you, Glimmer. And may the Weaver's flames guide you."

  The Shaydos turned around and they prepared to take to the air.

  "Wait, hold on," Vincent said. Glimmer stopped and looked at him. The zerok was not doing so well. Its beak was open and it was panting. He could hear its throat gurgling. Vincent didn't know what to say at first so for a few seconds, he chewed on his words. "Thank you…for everything."

  Glimmer lowered his head and nudged Vincent lightly with his beak. Then he opened his wings and took flight. The air buffeted with the flapping of wings as the rest of the Shaydos followed.

  "Now, if you follow me, I will lead you to your rooms," Gelani said, "Tomorrow, I will give you a tour but for tonight, I imagine you all are tired and you need rest."

  "And a bath," Sperloc added. "Is this the first time the monastery has been visited by the stench of sweat and grime?"

  "It is not," Gelani chuckled. "There are quite a few diplomats who had interesting scents. All of your needs will be attended to. As I am sure you know, Sperloc, the monastery was built around a hot spring. Hot water will be delivered to your rooms. And if you wish to visit the spring itself tomorrow, that is well too."

  Gelani led them through decorated hallways. Vincent noticed how the guards, though they remained silent, kept keen eyes on all of them.

  "Have you heard what happened to us, Gelani?" Menik asked. "Has word from the chain reached this far?"

  "I am afraid I have only heard whispers of devastation," he said, maintaining his calm, airy prose. "The zerok are chattering. All I have been told is that you are escorting an important guest. Beyond that, I am afraid I know very little. I assume this guest is the charismatic?"

  He looked sideways at Vincent.

  "You were quick to pick that up," Sperloc said.

  "I have met more than my fair share of them," Gelani said.

  Vincent had been told he had a "charisma", though to the Falians, the word meant something different than merely being charming or inspiring devotion. In their language, charismatics had a nearly tangible "pull" that others lacked. The personality of the charismatic did not matter, nor did their appearance. Charismatics always drew attention.

  Gelani showed each of them the rooms they would be staying in. They were not very large, only slightly larger than college dorms. But considering that Vincent and the shandan had been roughing it for weeks, they looked luxurious. They had actual beds, and though the beds were circular, almost like nests, they had linens. There was a small bathing chamber attached to each room, with a tub and a commode in it.

  A heavy wooden door led to a balcony on the outside. The spire's light poured through its seams. There was also a circular window in which Vincent could see hills covered with the same kind of bizarre trees and plants. Every single one of them looked barren like those in the courtyard. Or if not barren, at least stuck in pre-bloom, as if they were trapped in early spring.

  After Gelani shut the door, Vincent stood still, listening to the silence. It had been the first time in a long time that he had been alone. But this place…it made him feel calm. It had a zenlike energy. Later, he heard something rushing in the bath chamber. He checked to see what it was and found hot water pouring from a spigot. They must have been pumping it from somewhere. Not long after, a knock came at the door. The Falian standing at the threshold had his wings bound together with rope. Vincent was not sure what the purpose of such a thing was, but he did not ask. He was given a platter with oils and a bowl with trylics in it, some fresh clothes and a robe.

  "Enjoy your stay, and may you find peace here," the Falian said before leaving.

  Vincent stared at the bowl of trylics. They were mollusks that fed on grime. Some liked to use them to clean themselves. Vincent had seen them in Teramin, but he had been too disgusted to try them. When the tub was finished filling, he removed his clothes and sank into the hot water with wings spread.

  "Oh man…"

  He let out an audible groan of pleasure as the warm water loosened his muscles.

  "Damn I missed hot water."

  His voice resonated around the chamber as he allowed himself to slump against the tub for a bit. Then he began to scrub himself. Weeks of filth rose to the surface and floated around. Out of curiosity, he plucked a trylic from the bowl. Noodly white appendages wriggled forth from the softball-sized slug. He cringed a little and almost put it back in the bowl. But he was curious. Slade once said they were considered a luxury. So, he put it on his arm. At first, he quelled from the sudden scraping, tickling sensation. It felt like he was being scoured by velcro tentacles as they wrapped around his arm. But if he closed his eyes, he found that it was an oddly pleasant sensation. As disgusting as it was to have a feeder eating one's filth and buildup, he could see why Falian nobility would use them.

  As the trylic crawled along his arm, it left his scaly skin feeling fresh and exfoliated. Grabbing the other one, he put it on his neck. The sensation left him shuddering with equal parts delight and revulsion. It felt like a mop head, embedded with sand, had come to life and was now spreading over his shoulders and back. It was a very odd experience. And yet wherever the trylics fed, he felt completely scoured and refreshed. The air felt cooler to his skin and it felt more sensitive. Still, he could only take so much of it. So after they cleaned his arms and upper chest, he plucked them off and put them back in the bowl.

  After he was done bathing, he drained the water, put on the new clothes, which hung loosely around his body. He drew curtains around the window so that the spire's light would not keep him awake. Then he curled up inside the bed. He gripped its softness with pleasure and quickly fell asleep.