With the basilisk dead, the sky became free to travel. Adam reduced his gravity, turning over a ton of flesh and bones as light as a feather. Wind currents swirled into a jetstream at his command.
The canopy of pines below ruffled, needle-like leaves dancing around him as the stream propelled him toward the forest's edges. In front, Yann flapped his feathered wings. He couldn't help but roll his eyes each time he looked at the arcanist's wistful grin and how he clutched the basilisk's egg tight to his chest. Some might think Yann was the father with his uncommon morphing abilities.
"Now, that would be funny." He chuckled, enjoying the bright sun that replaced the Ashenveil Grove's soul-corroding mist and stalking magical beasts.
