Vast, gray-black wings spread flat, blocking out the light from above. Nefarian arrested its descent, adjusting the angle of its wings to ride the air currents as it spiraled downward.
This was a private estate on the outskirts of the Royal Capital, Zelheim. It had no extravagant decorations, only high walls and dense vegetation—an ideal place to hide someone.
Its hooves touched down, bending only a few tufts of wild grass. It snorted, twin plumes of hot white air jetting from its nostrils.
"We're here." Velin vaulted off his mount's back and patted its neck.
Xiaolan remained on the horse, her body rigid. Her hands gripped the edge of the saddle so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The swift journey itself likely wasn't a challenge for her, but to shield her from the wind, Velin had held her in his arms for nearly the entire ride—a fact the young woman was having trouble adjusting to.
"Can't get down?" Velin offered his hand.
