The red shimmer surged into my forehead like a wave of heatless flame.
I didn't even have time to stagger.
The world vanished.
And another took its place.
******
Wind. Endless sky. Mountains that pierced the clouds like ancient spears.
I soared.
But it wasn't me—not really.
It was him.
The Silversteel Hawk.
He was proud and powerful. His wings cut through the sky with ease. His feathers looked like silver in the sunlight. The wind wasn't just around him—it moved with him, like a friend. He didn't just fly through the air. He controlled it.
Below, his hunting grounds stretched for miles. Herds of beasts moved like rivers, unaware they were being watched. But he didn't kill. Not yet. There was no hunger in his flight, just freedom. Joy. Awareness.
I felt it all. All the emotions that the hawk was feeling.
The thrill of motion. The pulse of magic through muscle. The peace of solitude in high air.
He was intelligent. Not human but aware. Alive. Proud.
