Sabir walked in the wake of the others. The fierce sun struck him in the back and the wind cutting up more sand than he would choose to contend with. Because of the copious amounts of sweat he’d produced, particles clung to his hot, damp body. The wind plastered down the hair on his head and neck, and his eyes, probably never so wide open in his life, felt dry and swollen. He was shuffling more than stepping now. Zabo was by his side, looking at him and then looking away, his eyes filled with concern.


    Violet, the enormous animal that had been their companion for most of the journey, walked alongside them. Its large, cumbersome body moved with a steady rhythm that was almost calming as they pressed on. Now and then, it would make a noise that was almost a grunt, puffing softly through its beak.


    In front of them, Rudiger, Saliba, and Frederick hastened their pace, eager to gain the lay of the land—though the land had little to offer except for a remote, dusty expanse. It wasn’t long before they reached a small, sandy, rocky cliff. Sabir peered over the edge, then halted. Below them, a turbulent fight raged.


    There were ten horses with massive wings swooping in the air, diving, and then ascending with incredible agility. Their muscular bodies glistened in the sun, wings beating like thunder, scattering dust in every direction. Sabir’s eyes widened in awe. He had never seen such creatures before.


    “Whoa,” Saliba said, sounding definitely impressed. “Those are Pegasus.”


    “This is crazy luck,” Rudiger said, crouching down to get a better view. “You never see them on the ground. Hunters only ever spot them in the air. Rare as hell.”


    Warren crossed his arms, eyeing the creatures. “I hear they’re almost impossible to find,” he said. “The encyclopedia states Pegasi soar so high, only clouds hide them. Hunters get lucky sometimes and catch glimpses, but to see them this close, fighting... that’s something else.”


    With a smirk, Zabo looked in Warren’s direction. “Pegasi?” he said. “It’s Pegasus, dummy! They just said it!” Warren rolled his eyes. He was losing hope for Zabo.


    The guy was beyond stupid.


    “It’s plural, you idiot; there are multiple of them!” Warren slapped Zabo’s head, hoping to educate him. However, all he received was a death stare from Zabo and an awkward silence from the rest of the party.


    Sabir couldn’t fathom how they were the closest things to friends in this wasteland.


    Ending the quiet, Maize, fascinated, leaned closer, her eyes inspecting the unfolding battle with singular attention. “If I could tame one of those,” she said, her voice thick with ambition, “my mother would be very pleased. We don’t have any Pegasi in our collection.”


    He could see the hunger in her eyes, and for a moment, he felt pity for whatever creature Maize had her sights set on. She didn’t seem the type to take no for an answer.


    Yet, it was Frederick who broke the spell of awe. “The Pegasi aren’t fighting each other,” he said, his tone even but with an edge of curiosity. “They’re fighting the Quillark.”


    Sabir narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the massive figures beyond the Pegasi. And there they were—the Quillark. They were awful, enormous beasts, a horrid mix of hedgehog and boar. As they charged forward on stocky, powerful legs, their spiky quills bristled and shook. Molded, flat, and angular, their heads appeared menacing. Their skin was coarse, thick, and peppered with scars, likely from countless battles.


    One of the Quillarks, with no sign of warning, reared back and sent up a shower of black, sharp spikes aimed directly at the Pegasi. The winged horses, with the grace of a dancer, dodged and weaved, their elegant movements almost enchanting.


    “Quillark meat tastes alright,” Saliba commented, his eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity. “But it’s hell to prepare. Damn spikes make it near impossible to skin without cutting yourself.”


    Rudiger snorted, a dark smile twitching across his lips. “Fancy some flying horse meat?”


    They exchanged an evil grin. Rudiger faced the group and fixated on Elektra and Maize. “Follow our lead,” he said, clearly intent on some kind of scheme.


    Without a moment’s hesitation, Rudiger moved toward the cliff’s edge with purpose, his cloak streaming behind him in the wind. Beneath his boots, the stony ground gave way with a series of soft crunches, but his intense focus—developed through many years of training—allowed him to ignore everything around him. His eyes remained locked on the chaos below. With an almost gentle motion, he flicked his wrist, from his fingertips sprang forth a narrow ribbon of icy mist that descended to the ground. The air crackled and hissed, and within seconds, the mist solidified, forming a smooth, gleaming ice slide that arced gracefully from the edge of the cliff down toward the battlefield.


    Shimmering brightly, the slide’s surface gleamed with a crystalline sheen, catching the sun’s rays and deflecting them into a stunning array of dazzling blues and whites. The slide’s steep but graceful descent wound between the surrounding rocky outcrops with precision, avoiding the sharp edges and protrusions of the jagged rocks. The ice was smooth as glass, polished to a high gloss, wide enough to accommodate two people side by side, but narrow enough to make the descent exhilarating.


    From it, a chill emanated, a frosty breath that stretched into the air and sliced through the desert’s dry heat. Steam billowed upward where the frozen slide’s surface met the sizzling sand underneath, a foggy mix that curled in the air around the slide’s entrance like spectral fingers beckoning one to enter.


    Saliba didn’t hesitate. His eyes shone with delight, an almost bright anticipation lighting up his face. With a fast grin, he stepped onto the shining surface before him. His boots barely grazed the ice, and his body leaned forward naturally as he began his descent, he let out a low, delighted whistle as the speed picked up, the slide pulling him down at a pace that sent the wind howling past his ears.


    The ice appeared to vibrate under him, coolness biting into the soles of his boots as he hurtled down the twisting path. His body danced with the slide’s curves. The world blurred around him—colors smudging into one another as the rocky terrain whipped by on either side. Dust kicked up from the desert floor, mingling with the mist, creating an ethereal atmosphere as he neared the bottom, his arms outstretched for balance.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Saliba’s heart raced with every second, the thrill of the descent blending with the dangerous delight of the fight that awaited him at the end of the slide. He laughed as he plummeted toward the earth, his voice echoing over the battleground, faintly ricocheting off the walls of the cliffs above him.


    With a rare glint of deference lighting his eyes, Frederick regarded Elektra. “I will follow closely behind, my lady. Do as you wish.”


    Elektra smiled distantly. She nodded briefly, and then stepped toward the ice slide, Maize right on her tail. Frederick settled himself directly behind them, murmuring something under his breath that sounded like a prayer to his ancestors.


    Zabo, who remained next to Sabir, chuckled quietly. “Man, that looks like fun.”


    “Don’t even think about it,” said Warren, being stern. “You’ll get yourself killed.”


    Warren received a playful grin from Zabo, though the latter’s gaze held something deeper. “C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?” Zabo asked. But his focus was not on Warren or even the ensuing battle; it was on Sabir, who remained oblivious to Zabo as his eyes trailed him, always a step behind, always watching. He needed to keep him safe.


    The wind howled softly at the top of the cliff, dust swirling around their shoes as Sabir, Zabo, and Warren looked down at the chaotic battlefield below. Everyone had descended towards the battle, leaving the trio alone.


    “We should just stay up here,” Warren finally said, directing his attention to Sabir and Zabo. “It’s safer to watch from a distance.”


    Zabo folded his arms, squinting at the shimmering ice slide Rudiger had left behind. The icy path reflected the sunlight like glass, but below, the chaos of quills and wings raged on. The Quillark and Pegasus were still locked in their deadly clash, the enormous hybrid beasts flinging their quills like spears at the airborne horses, who swooped and dodged as best they could.


    “Yeah, all right,” Zabo grumbled. “I’m not going down there. But it’s not because you told me not to.”


    An eyebrow lifted as Warren exhausted his patience. “Whatever,” he said, his tone holding a hint of irritation. His attention shifted to Sabir, who was unusually quiet. He didn’t trust Sabir’s silence; something about the way the younger man’s eyes gleamed with curiosity made him uneasy.


    Sabir took a slow breath, his body still tingling from the effects of ambrosia. He could feel the black veins under his skin, a constant reminder of his cursed condition, but the rush of adrenaline made him push that fear aside. He leaned forward, peering down the steep incline toward the battlefield below.


    “Why don’t we get closer?” Sabir asked, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic spark of interest.


    Zabo’s head turned towards him, and he looked at him as if he were a lunatic. “Dude, are you crazy?” he hissed, the words coming out in a near whisper. “I can still feel the aura leaking from your body. That ambrosia might keep you on your feet, but it’s not gonna last forever. You’re still... dying.”


    With a half-smile on his lips, Sabir said, “So what? I’m going to die anyway, right? I might as well enjoy it.”


    An accusatory finger prodded Zabo’s chest as frustration boiled over in Warren. “This is your fault,” he said. “You were supposed to keep an eye on him, not encourage him.”


    Zabo was about to protest, but before he could respond, Sabir turned and took off toward the ice slide. With a sudden, reckless burst of energy, he launched himself onto the smooth surface and slid down without a second thought. A shout of pure excitement tore from his throat as he picked up speed, the cold ice biting at his clothes, the wind whipping past his face. His heart raced, a wild grin spreading across his face as he whooped in exhilaration.


    Warren could only facepalm in exasperation as he watched the chaos unfold. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” he muttered under his breath.


    Zabo hesitated for only a moment before deciding to run after Sabir. “Well, I can’t let him go alone!” he yelled, flinging himself onto the ice slide with as much grace as he could muster. His bulky frame caused the slide to wobble for a moment before he steadied himself, following closely behind Sabir’s rapidly disappearing figure.


    Warren stood at the cliff’s edge. His hand was still against his forehead. He could only watch in disbelief as the two idiots went down the cliff like it was some theme park ride. “They’re going to get themselves killed,” he muttered, and worse of all, he was going to follow suit. With a resigned sigh, he began the slower climb down the cliff side, refusing to take the ice slide like the others.


    Sabir’s body slid effortlessly along the frozen surface, the sharp twists and turns of the slide only heightening his excitement. The world blurred around him, the sound of rushing wind filling his ears. His chest burned with a mixture of fear and exhilaration, but it was a strange, liberating feeling. The weight of his illness, the black veins that had haunted him for so long, seemed to melt away in the moment''s thrill.


    Prior to this—prior to the curse, prior to the ambrosia—Sabir would have done nothing so foolhardy. He would’ve stayed behind, observing cautiously, worried about every danger. But now, with the looming threat of death hanging over him, there was a strange freedom of knowing he had nothing left to lose.


    In the distance behind him, Zabo’s voice faintly echoed, shouting something that was impossible to hear over the wind and the slide. Sabir’s grin widened with exhilaration as he sped through the next drop, the curves of the ice slide embracing him as he banked low to one side. He felt alive, more alive than he had in the past few weeks, maybe in the past few years. The cold air unfurled around him, but he welcomed the sensation, the rush of life that coursed through him.


    Ahead, the battlefield came into sharper focus. Attacking: The winged Pegasi were in full combat with the Quillarks; massive, hulking beasts with spiked bodies like hedgehogs and grotesque, boar-like faces. The Quillarks shot their razor-sharp quills like a barrage of arrows, some sticking into the sandy ground, while others hit their mark, wounding the Pegasus mid-flight. The horses let out shrill cries, their wings flapping desperately to avoid the deadly projectiles.


    In awe, Sabir gazed at the beings that were unlike any he had ever known before. The Pegasi were breathtakingly furious, their wings undulating and shimmering as they flew, dodging and weaving, but the Quillarks were terrifying in their relentless assault, their quills launching from their backs in deadly precision.


    As Sabir approached the base of the slide, the sounds of battle echoed—the furious roars of the Quillarks, the shrieks of the Pegasus’, and the sharp whistling of the quills cutting through the air. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he readied himself for the bottom, for the intensity of the battlefield that would hit him like an impact blast the moment he reached ground zero.


    Not far behind him, Zabo slid downward, his face a blend of thrill and anxiety. He had kept his balance during the descent, but now that they were approaching the action, he did not know what to expect. “Sabir!” he bellowed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. “You know you’re insane, right?!”


    Zabo was still grinning when Sabir looked back at him. “Maybe I am!” he shouted back, directing his words toward Zabo but spreading them across the near atmosphere, his voice thick with abandon. “But can you really blame me?”


    Zabo could only shake his head as they both came to the bottom of the slide. The battlefield stretched out before them, chaos unfolding in every direction. Quills embedded in the ground like spears, the air thick with dust and the smell of blood. The Pegasi circled overhead, their bodies twisting and turning as they avoided the deadly quills, but some had already fallen, their once-majestic forms now crumpled on the ground, stained with blood.


    Having taken the more gradual path down the cliff, Warren finally caught up with the two of them. His face was a mask of irritation when he got close enough to them to talk safely. “You two are absolute idiots,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve just thrown yourselves into the middle of a fight between monsters. Do you even realize how stupid that was?”


    Sabir, still riding the high of adrenaline, only shrugged. “I’m going to die anyway,” he said, his voice nonchalant. “Might as well go out with a bang.”