It was not the first time that Ghanon flew. But there was a difference between tearing through these painted clouds on a creature made to coarse across the sky, than it was to tear through them with one's own form. Ghanon's form had never truly been bound by the physical limitations planes had set on their natural inhabitants. Among them was a seemingly unnatural ability to fly. He did not sprout wings, nor had any physical apparatus by which to perform such a feat. Perhaps it was the darkness of the sorcery that seeped through him, like a toxin. Or perhaps it was that he, himself, was except from the natural laws of the universe. If he scorned the rules of divine entities, why shouldn't it be said that he could defy gravity as well?
He kept this thought in mind all the while he gripped onto the features of the bird. He didn't yet test it however, as a stray hand of his lingered at his side and the soreness of the wound that had nearly eaten his physical form. If it had taken away his ability to teleport, what kept it from sapping his ability for flight?
Ghanon smirked back at Lana when she answered him and kept his eyes on her all the while the took to the skies. The air was crisp the higher they climbed, soaring toward the horizon and away from the sinking of the sun. But there was something unusual about the darkness of the line that was unsteady before them. At first it seemed like merely a shadow of the mountains but as he discerned his eye toward it, he saw that what seemed to be one thing turned into many as they scattered into tiny figures miles away.
"Hyoite, huh?" he remarked absently, his mind slinking immediately to the darkened image of the Fallen Prince, kneeling before that blackened sword of his, sinking it into the ground. He remembered Arcan's face, the clear expression there that no games were to be played. Ghanon knew he was being watched, but if the Prince's intension was to kill them both, then he would never get the jewels that he'd been promised. Perhaps, Ghanon slowly realized, he'd intended to do just that because he found a greater power in the shard. He froze internally at the thought and bit the inside of his lip, staving off feelings of fear and anger. Time, he was starting to realize, was of the essence all the more.
"How about getting us the hell away from those!" he yelled, pointing to the line that was coming right at them.
The darkened line became starker and suddenly the seemed to darken, and the creatures scattered as they flew closer to them. The flew swifter than hawks and seemed to be larger than birds, though bearing tattered black feathers, some of which were torn out of place leaving behind exposed flesh underneath. Their beaks were thorned and they had two pairs of taloned feet, talons that were long and gnarled, ready to snare onto the vulnerable flesh where it could find it. And behind them trailed not a tail of feathers, but what appeared to be a dragon's tail, barbed with yellows spines and on either side of their head, were beady yellow eyes that pierced through prey, paralyzing them. They came in hordes, flocks of what seemed to be thousands of them, fully prepared to dig those talons deep into their flesh. Ghanon did not like the look of this situation. But it seemed it was too bad that these were not the only things they would have to deal with.
Ghanon felt his hands grow colder and the crystalline feathers beneath his hands seemed to have ink spreading through them. He removed one and saw that the creature no longer resembled a bird created by the good graces of a goddess and he viewed large, repulsive fangs that spewed out form the snout that now formed the creature's maw. This looked like it was going to get real ugly real fast. And he knew it the second their deformed mount turned and attempted to bite Lana on the leg.
