Amidst the radiant light of the rising sun, Gryphos beat its feathered wings, soaring through the blue skies. A blurry jet that pierced through the surging winds.
It was fast.
Behind the feathered mane of the Griffin, Damien held on with all his might against the raging gale. His pitch-black hair fluttered in mayhem, his face barely kept its form.
Too fast. Gryphos was breaking through sound barriers, sonic booms trailing from behind. There was nothing but the roaring zephyr, muffling him.
Even Majesty could barely help him carry on. Its golden aura torn by the rushing draft of the blue skies.
Damien narrowed his sable-tinted gaze, unable to utter a single word. Snowy mountains and desolate plains were fleeting below them. Hazy from the darting pace.
But their first destination was in the shifting lines of the horizon. Gryphos flapped its wings, the surging winds subsiding as the Griffin eased off.
