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The wind rushes past my pointed ears as I watch my flying ship get smaller in my vision. The tips of my ears sting as the heat is ripped from them, as if it had caught the edge of the ship before the fall and left me behind. reach for the grappling hook on my belt but I can already tell the rope isn't long enough at this point. I flip myself to view the ground. I can see the rolling hills of Corinea below me, a place I used to call my home. Looking at it from this perspective, it looks so small, even as it grows in my vision. Of course, when I was a child, it felt massive. I could run around for hours, climbing trees, and exploring small caves, all in the name of adventure. I find myself remembering my mothers Spiced Strawberry Pie, she would always make it for me when I got home. Her soft fur as she hugged me and asked about my day was always how I knew that I was safe at home.

The ground is taking up most of my vision now, and I am wishing that I had mastered that slow falling spell Master Bailgruuf was trying to teach me. I can hear his words echoing in my mind as I try to recall his teachings.

“Now remember young Mila, you must imagine yourself as light as a feather. Then, chant these words of power, 'Gurash navo liteh vira moduul'.”

I move my hands in the way he showed me all those years ago. My twisted hands rapidly perform each gesture as I close my eyes to try and ignore the quickly approaching ground. I can feel the magic sparking off my scarred wrists, it burns as if my very soul were caught ablaze. Attempting to push past the pain, I visualize myself.

I imagine my tall and broad frame becoming smaller and loose. My orange and black striped fur becoming feathers. I imagine my large claws begin to shave down to small twigs. Then as I open my eyes I call out the words of my Master.

“Gurash navo, liteh vira moduul!”

I look ahead as the ground is just a few feet below me and before I become a red stain on the ground, a gust of air lays flat all the grass around me and I feel myself jolt as I am quickly slowed down and gently placed upon the ground on my feet.

I look up and can see my flying ship sailing off to the horizon, without me. I let out a large sigh, mostly in relife, but partly annoyed I must now track down my ship once again. I look down at my wrists, and can see the runic scars are bright red from the strain the magic placed on them.

I must get stronger and make my people proud. I, Mila Hadrah, shall become the greatest Rakshasan Sorcerer the world of Bergomont has ever known.