Thunder filled the sky. Lightning flashed. The wind howled.
A silver eagle glided on the turbulent flow of air. Silvera's bond with it helped steer it without much effort.
"The weather did change out of nowhere."
She grinned as she avoided the lightning strikes.
"It's like the Altar foretold. Make haste. Waste less time admiring the mortal grounds. We need to reach the ruins on time."
"I know. We will be in time," Silvera eyed her companion and sighed. The Altar partnered her with this young Templar – the youngest ever she was told – when she returned to the High Temple. The girl was diligent. Almost too much if you asked Silvera. She stuck to the rules. And she hated being late. Silvera would like to believe, like a younger version of her. But she would be lying. She never followed rules and the one time she was on time, her old teacher nearly died of shock.