Atlas sat upon his floating throne, with Edrik standing quietly behind him. The barrier surrounding the island slowly began to open as the guest they had been waiting for finally approached the island's airspace.
A carriage came into view, pulled by several white horses. The horses looked like they were running, even though they were clearly moving through the air, flying rather than touching the ground.
The sound of clopping hooves echoed loudly, shoe against shoe, answering one another in rhythm, despite the fact that they were galloping through the air.
It was a carriage that looked… unnecessarily extravagant, at least in Atlas's opinion. Especially since he already knew exactly who was sitting inside.
Soon, the carriage turned and came to a precise stop right in front of Atlas. The carriage and the horses stood firmly in midair, as if solid ground existed beneath them.
