The skies were open, vast, and almost silent, except for the rhythmic sound of enormous wings cutting through the air in powerful, constant movements. Strax advanced in his dragon form, his colossal body traversing the wind currents with absolute ease, as if this were his truest state. Below them, the world began to seem distant, reduced to patches of green and uneven terrain, while the surrounding blue deepened into cooler, more rarefied tones, higher than most would even dare to reach.
The wind there was not gentle.
It cut.
It pressed.
And it demanded adaptation.
