The Paragons rode forth.
The terrain, uneven and treacherous, gave way as the horses galloped further and further up the increasingly sloped landscape.
As Charice and his convoy reached the mountain's peak, beneath them stretched a flat plain of deserted orange rock - A valley at the very peak of the Draconic Mountains.
Charice had no issue spotting his companion, unlike his Paragons.
For them, there was no creature to be seen anywhere; the only point of note was a single hill in the middle of this plain. Red like the sands around it, it seemed in no way unusual, until Michael noticed the scarring in its flesh and the cracks in its scales, leaving small, exposed areas in its camouflage.
Its body heaved with heavy, lumbering breaths. It was large, yet far, far smaller than Charice had anticipated from yesterday. With a confused tilt of his head, he commanded the Paragons to ride forward.
Abra, a wyvern the size of a large pick-up truck, twitched awake. His scales shifted in color to match his surroundings, growing less red and more orange the further he was from the desert sands.
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The warhorses neighed loudly, throwing their heads back as they fought their riders. They turned to the side, refusing to take a step further.
Michael's horse kicked its feet in the air, Charice's back smacking against his armored chest as the Paragon struggled to keep his steed in check.
Then, a low rumble filled the air as Abra's eight pupilless eyes narrowed while approaching them.
"Abra, stop it!" Charice demanded, his voice cracking with emotion as panic surged in his chest. And in turn, a flood of power surged with it.
The wyvern ceased, now a more relaxed, lax rumble echoing in the air. Abra raised his head higher, some of his scales shifting to a light blue to match the sky. The horses calmed themselves as Abra's pupilless eight eyes relaxed.
Now calm with his camouflage falling away, the ancient wyvern revealed itself in its full glory.
His tail, long and scarred, held a black stinger at the very end; the tail itself was akin to a rattlesnake, covered in hollow compartments that created a harsh rattling noise when shaken.
Its wings, though folded, were immense. Full of light, hollow bones surrounded by flexible muscle, with smooth skin covering them. A bit of golden fur grew around its snout and lower jaw, two strands extending down to the sands.
"Down!" Charice commanded, motioning for Abra to lower himself.
The wyvern did as it was told, lowering itself to the floor with a deliberate slowness, its wounds clear as day.
"Ride up to him, Michael. The rest of you stay here and get your horses under control."
Now that he was next to Abra, Charice looked at Michael.
"Could you..." He mumbled, motioning at Abra's back, where a saddle could be seen, outfitted with various belts to help the rider not get blown away. This time, it was the ideal size for Charice, as if tailored for him.
"Yes, Consort." With that, Michael carefully placed Charice onto the saddle, relieved that this test of his professionalism was over.
The second Charice made contact with the soft, brown leather, he felt Abra quiver beneath him. "It's okay, you can rise now." Charice relented, allowing the old wyvern to get more comfortable.
Charice's blue eyes softened. Abra was old, wounded, and he had seen far too much. It won't be long until Charice will have no choice but to retire him.
That silhouette yesterday was not his true form; it was a projection of him. A beacon he created using his power, or what was left of it.
Such presence was a staple racial ability of the wyverns and dragons, but only the most powerful among them could manifest it. Abra, even at this age, could impose himself on an entire city.
"Did you want to see me, Abra?" Charice smiled, petting the dragon, who only rumbled in response. "We need to get a beast tamer back... Come to think of it, one of my guildmates is a beast tamer. I think they were online... I'll look for them later."
With that plan made, Charice turned to the Paragons underneath him and raised his voice a little, "You guys, head back to the city and pick up your friend on the way. I'll stay here with Abra and try my hand at flying again. It's been a while."
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The Paragons saluted, knowing Abra was the greatest guard any being could ask for, and rode their horses away. Michael hesitated for a brief second, but also moved.
"Go on, bud."
Abra groaned, his tail rattling slightly as his wings slowly unfurled. They were massive, stretching to a grand fifteen meters away from his body with a thirty-meter-long wingspan.
With a mighty stomp and a growl, he surged into the air.
The wind blasted into Charice's face as his grip over the saddle he sat on tightened, but the belts kept him in place. He pressed himself deeper onto the saddle beneath him, the rough, coarse leather grinding against his silky kimono.
The wind was cold as Abra soared higher and higher, nearing the clouds, but it was then that warmth surged in Charice's core and spread out into his body once more.
The view was something to behold. On the left was the vast city, The Ark, an immense pillar of order at its center, loomed into the sky, akin to a skyscraper, yet it too looked small. The palm trees, red sands, and white marble created a visual of such nonsense that one couldn't help but be charmed.
Beneath them were the Dragon Peaks, large mountains similar to those of North America, orange, red, and flat at the top. Towers were scattered around them, overlooking various tight pathways and narrow routes to the world outside.
That world was now there, and Charice didn't recognize it. Tall oak and smaller spruce trees were scattered across the horizon, the occasional trail or two of smoke rising from the canopy.
"They'll probably notice us soon... Maybe we should go say hi at some point?"
Abra huffed, a trail of smoke escaping its nostrils. Charice looked back at his city, a tear blowing in the wind.
"It's so pretty... But... There is a lot of work to be done."
With that, for the first time in days, Charice let the wind carry him without fear. The sky passed by. A week passed with it.