24
Petron sat alone in his chamber, his chair turned to face the open sky, his eyes closed, feeling the wind against his cheeks and remembering the soar and bank of flight. If he let his mind go, let it float free in the memory, he could almost lose himself in it. Almost remember the doorway in his mind that led to that form, the doorway that was now lost to him. The doorway that perhaps no longer even existed.
A single tear rolled down his cheek, cold against the wind, and he felt himself being pulled back.
He opened his eyes to stare out across the sky, his mind still somewhere in the past. A knock at the door brought him completely back, and he stood to greet his visitor.
‘Master Petron.’ A young guard strode into the room and saluted, his boot heels clicking together to send an ech
