The journey home to Nocture began with cold gusts of wind sweeping down from the towering purple snow mountains behind Ironvale. The sky remained heavily overcast, gray clouds rolling slowly as if trailing their steps, but the torrential rain from last night's storm had finally ceased. Noir flew steadily at mid-altitude, his tattered wings beating in a calm rhythm, his massive body easily carrying Sylvia and Sofia across the fertile valleys thick with wet wild grass and low trees covered in deep green leaves. The air felt fresher now scented with damp stone mixed with moist earth after the rain, and the faint wild pine aroma that grew sporadically along the lower mountain slopes.
