Taking the steps two at a time, the satchels packed fit-to-bursting with herbs and supplies crisscrossing his body smacking uncomfortably against his flanks with each step, Elohym Marthiel froze and pressed himself as deep into the shadows on the side of the building as possible when the rustle of wings alerted him to another passing patrol. Wearing a roughspun Surfacers robe beneath a heavy traveling cloak that obscured the bright white of his wings, Elohym had been making this trek every few months for seven years now and it never seemed to be less nerve-wracking. His hurried steps brought him further down the spire carved into the mountain, feather-light steps unnoticeable beneath the crisp gusting winds that enveloped the mountain's peak until at last he reached the base of the staircase.
Peering down at the Last Terrace, sharp eyes looking for any sign of an Overseer - or worse yet, a Purifier - preparing to descend, Elohym unfurled his wings and launched himself at a dizzying speed from the mountainside. Gripping the satchels tightly to avoid jostling, the hooded Avariel dipped beneath the clouds and moved east, the powerful beating of his short wings carrying him down to the world below.
Sreeya
