Dane fell flat on his face. Flying was the single most challenging thing that he had ever attempted. Zeph's casual dismissal of his technique sparked something inside him that he had almost forgotten was there. Competition.

  "Aw, you almost had it," Zeph said with a snicker, his tone dripping with condescension.

  Dane was not good at being bad at anything. For most of his life, he could intuit what he had to do. But now that it was flying. Not only did he have to coordinate his back muscles with movements that didn't feel natural, but as soon as he almost got the hang of it, he would have to wait 45 minutes until he could use his next transformation. Yet, he was determined to master this skill, no matter the obstacles.

  Birds naturally had less density in their bones. But the Aurion had a skill that directly controlled bone density. When flying, they weighed less, but when on the ground, their density increased to make them formidable combatants as well as skilled flyers. Dane's Devil form did not have this benefit, so he had to compensate for the extra weight with increased lift. He flapped hard with long strokes.

  He wasn't even able to reach the sky streams that Zeph had told him he could coast on.

  Dane's lack of timing once again bit him as he plummeted to the ground from 20 feet up as he transformed back into his human form. His megaladon pants were already ratty, but now that he was spamming his transformation over and over, he was sure that he would need to steal Zeph's stuck-up feathers and turn them into a makeshift loincloth.

  The wind howled through the branches of wild conifers. Dane's heartbeat thundered in his chest, echoing in rhythm with the pulse of his Mana thrumming through his body.

  His Jagged wings unfolded from his shoulder blades. He leapt once more, claws dragging on the rocky ground, attempting flight again. The wind tore past his wings, slipping around the rigid surfaces rather than holding him aloft. His chest burned, and his lungs hurt from the cold mountain air. With a curse, he crashed into a jutting rock, sliding down the slope.

  Zephyros floated down from the ridge above him effortlessly, his amber eyes glittering with amused superiority. "No, no, human," he said, tilting his head, letting his elegant wings flare to catch the gusts. "You're overthinking. Feel the air. You need to control your wings. I don't understand why you can't just… figure it out."

  Dane spat out a handful of snow, glaring. "I am figuring it out. You're just… not being very helpful," he retorted, his frustration palpable.

  Zeph chuckled, hovering closer. "I am helping. I'm demonstrating how effortless it is to soar when your bones are properly aligned, your muscles relaxed, your weight… negligible."

  Dane gritted his teeth. Weight… negligible. He flexed, forcing his muscles to lift him again. This time, he relaxed the muscles in the middle of his wings, letting the wind catch the fractured surfaces instead of rushing around them. He flapped harder, faster, every motion like a person flailing in the pool rather than the graceful dance Zeph was demonstrating. The ground rushed past, and for a moment, he floated. A short hop, a half-second glide, but enough to spark a surge of pride.

  Zeph's eyes narrowed. "Not bad."

  Dane scowled, flapping harder, trying to hold the hoover longer. His black-glass wings were efficient in their own way, strong and resistant, but they weren't designed for air currents like Zeph's feathers. He adjusted again, angling the rigid sections and softening others, and managed a few more seconds of actual flight. It wasn't elegant, nor was it effortless, but it was progress. And that progress, no matter how small, was a significant achievement for Dane.

  "You see? You can fly," Zeph said with a smirk, though the pride in his voice was faintly overshadowed by surprise.

  "Barely," Dane muttered, lungs burning. "I'll take it."

  Hours passed in a blur of flapping, tumbling, and frustrated cursing. Zeph offered tips in passing, mostly veiled insults disguised as advice. At the same time, Dane pushed himself, flaps timed with pulses of Mana, wings flexing to catch what little lift he could generate. By midday, they took a brief rest, the wind carrying the scent of pine and distant frost.

  At about midday, Dane took a break from flying and started focusing on survival. Draka had pushed them into the wilderness without any rations. Now he had to find food and water. There was plenty of snow on the ground, and Dane ate the snow by the handful. He activated huntsmen and saw some small tracks that could have been mistaken for sleet falling on the crusty snow. The skill lit up red, showing that it was a trail.

  Zeph landed right on top of the tracks that Dane was looking at, and the red glow faded.

  "Zeph, I am trying to rustle up some dinner. Can't you go back in the air?" He said, exhausted, with the noble that seemed less like a down-to-earth person from the first meeting and more of a spoiled rich kid in need of a reality check.

  "What are you doing?" The Birdman said with his head cocked to the side.

  Dane was surprised, unlike when the bird had bragged about being God's gift to the air. He was interested in learning some basic survival skills.

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  "I am tracking," Dane said flatly, even though the bird was treating him like an equal now. He couldn't forget the arrogant taunt the bird threw at him.

  "How?"

  Dane refused to elaborate further and just followed the small animal that he thought might be a fox.

  About two hours later, he saw other tracks that were definitely from another predator something that slithered. Dane decided that he didn't want to encounter whatever was on the mountain, so he took the scenic route. He had to listen to Zeph's complaints about how easy it would be just to keep going down the path they were going, and that by going around the river at the base of the mountain they were losing time. But, he didn't really care. Dane thought he was getting a badass descendant of Horus, but instead, he acted like an annoying seagull.

  "I'll take first watch after we set up camp," Dane said.

  "Don't you think it's overkill to set up a watch. These animals know better than to attack Beastmen."

  "Have you never wondered why the totem in the center of your camp was always humming with Mana. It's because your mages have made a barrier that keeps everything out. Now you need to hurry up, I want to get to sleep so we can hunt in the morning." Dane said

  The Beastman looked as if he was going to protest, but thought better of it. 'Thank god,' Dane thought. 'The noble has finally shut up.'

  For their camp, the differences between the two became even more apparent. Dane was able to gather enough sticks, logs, and conifer branches that he had a decent shelter going. It was going to be freezing, but he would live through the night. On the other hand, Zeph didn't make a shelter and said that his feathers were waterproof and that he wouldn't be making anything. That was the story of Dane's life; no matter how good he was, someone else always had it easier, and he would train to get where he was.

  The night was warm next to the fire. Dane enjoyed watching it; it reminded him of Christmas. He lived in Texas, so every year they would visit some place that snowed and open presents in a cabin that they rented. Dane woke Zeph up for his watch. He used the countdown to the crucible as a watch. When he slept, his back was sore in ways that he never could have imagined. He tossed and turned, but when sleep finally came, he slept hard. The kind of hard that you wake up with sheet seems on your face.

  A soft hiss came. Almost like a whisper of wind. Subtle. Deceptive. Dane's eyes cracked open in time to see the shadow move, sliding across the pale frost in a liquid curve.

  By the time his instincts kicked in, the frost-scaled serpent was already upon them.

  It was longer than two station wagons laid end to end, its body glistening like shards of moonlit ice. Scales glittered in the dark, edged with frost, every coil flexing with predatory precision. When it moved, the air grew sharp and cold, a biting chill that stole the warmth straight from Dane's skin. Its breath misted in the dark, and with each exhale, it crystallized the ground beneath it.

  "Zeph!" Dane roared, scrambling to his feet, wings snapping wide as he started his transformation to his beast form.

  Zeph startled awake, feathers flaring, panic flashing in his eyes. He had dozed off, and the serpent had come for them. Guilt twisted his face, but there was no time for apologies. The beast lunged, its head darting forward with a speed that belied its massive size.

  Dane barely rolled aside, frost cracking where the serpent's fangs slammed into the earth. A spray of frozen soil erupted, shards slicing across Dane's arms. He gritted his teeth and spread his wings, trying to draw the serpent's attention away from Zeph.

  The serpent's head tracked him, unblinking, its slit-pupil eyes glowing with a cold hunger. It lunged again, but this time, Dane was ready. He beat his wings hard, black glass catching what air it could, dragging himself up just enough to meet the strike head-on. His claws slammed into its snout.

  The serpent hissed, scales cracking under the blow, but frost surged from its body, encasing Dane's arm in crystal. The cold bit to the bone, and he snarled, trying to wrench free.

  Zeph, finally shaking the sleep from his wings, dove. His talons raked the serpent's back, feathers flaring as he released a burst of cutting wind. The serpent's scales shattered like brittle ice where the strike landed, but it barely flinched, swinging its massive body upward. The tail snapped through the air like a whip, smashing into Zeph mid-flight. The Birdman spiraled, feathers scattering, and hit the ground hard.

  Dane ripped his frozen arm free, shards of ice tearing at his skin. "Up!" he bellowed. "Zeph, get up!"

  The serpent coiled, readying for the killing strike. Its mouth opened wide, twin fangs dripping with frost that steamed against the night air. Dane planted his feet, wings folding close—he knew he wasn't fast enough to dodge another lunge.

  But Zeph staggered up. His eyes burned with determination. His wings spread wide, and he whispered the words Dane remembered from earlier: "Feel lighter."

  Dane caught it, the rhythm of the words, the shift of weight. He let his wings relax, not fighting against the air but flowing with it, allowing the currents to catch him instead of slipping past. For the first time, his heavy glass wings lifted like they belonged to him.

  The serpent struck.

  Dane surged upward, higher than he thought possible, the fangs snapping shut just below his feet. He twisted midair, channeling raw force down his arm, and crashed a blow into the serpent's eye. The beast shrieked, frost exploding in all directions.

  It reared, thrashing violently, but Zeph was already moving. He darted low, talons glowing with condensed wind, and struck where Dane's blow had cracked the scales. His claws sank deep into the wound, and with a violent wrench, he tore a swath of frozen flesh free.

  The serpent convulsed, its body slamming into the earth again and again, but Dane and Zeph pressed the attack together. Dane's claws pummeled through shattered scales while Zeph's wind-carved strikes widened the wounds.

  Finally, Zeph soared upward, wings beating furiously, and with a scream, he drove both talons down into the serpent's skull. Wind erupted in a cyclone from the impact, splitting the beast's head open with a thunderous crack.

  The serpent's thrashing slowed. Then stopped. Its glittering body slumped against the earth, frost melting from its scales as silence reclaimed the night.

  For a long moment, the only sound was the two of them panting.

  Dane lowered himself to the ground, wings trembling from strain. His gaze cut to Zeph. The Birdman stood there, chest heaving, feathers disheveled, eyes still bright with the fire of battle.

  "You fell asleep," Dane said, voice flat.

  Zeph winced. "…Yeah."

  "But you killed it."

  Zeph looked at him, feathers puffing with something between pride and shame. "We did."

  Dane let out a breath, half a laugh, half exhaustion. "Next time," he muttered, "you stay awake."

  The serpent's corpse glittered in the pale moonlight, a reminder of how close death had been. And how far they still had to go, the peak of the mountain was waiting with the first treasure.