Regretful Journey

The Tremo soared high above the clouds, its wings stretched wide, beating silently against the sky like the wings of a great, ethereal bird. Its body, a marvel of design, glimmered with the sheen of polished glass, reflecting the sun's rays as it cut through the air with breathtaking speed. The ship moved effortlessly, its powerful magic crystals humming beneath its sleek surface, propelling it faster. Inside, it was a world apart—quiet, but for the occasional shift of the air and the soft rustle of fabric. Stacy walked the narrow corridors, her steps slow and heavy.