The west broodlift waited beyond the last safe piece of floor.
A cradle hung over red mist, separated from the gallery by an empty span where a boarding bridge had once been. Three black chains climbed from its corners into the warm dark. A fourth lay broken across the cradle bed, buried under old feathers and rusted saddle hooks.
Far below, something beat inside the Bellmother.
Each pulse lifted the mist and made the hanging cradle turn.
Valea and Hest set the emperor carrier down before the gap. The injured male's beak slid from Jiang's nape and struck hide without opening his eye.
The chick called at once.
Its father answered with air.
"How forbidden is it?" Hest asked.
Mottle went to the edge on foot. Months without flight had changed the way she approached a drop. She planted the good foreclaw first, tested the red stone twice, and kept the damaged wing bound against her side.
"The lower chain enters living blood," she said.
