Tafel examined her surroundings with a frown. Everything was black. The ground was black, the sky was black, even the air in front of her seemed to be black as well. If it weren’t for the golden glow coming from Minerva’s feather, she would’ve been engulfed in darkness. However, she wasn’t underground. Tafel’s horns glowed silver, and she opened a portal in front of herself. Her hand reached in, and she winced. Instead of the empty space she had expected to connect to, her hand had collided into something solid. There was something wrong with this place. Her brow furrowed, and more portals appeared in front of her; however, none of them led to where she wanted to open them.

Tafel’s face paled, and she took in a deep breath. Since there was something interfering with her spatial magic, she didn’t have access to her supplies: her water, her food, her clothes, even her sword. The only things she could use were the items she had brought with her, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. Had she been too arrogant this time around? Her face hardened, and Tafel straightened her back. No, it was fine. Even without those items, she could still rely on herself to survive. She had done it in Fuselage. She could do it here. Her horns glowed blue, and an icicle appeared in her hand; however, contrary to her expectation, it was pitch-black rather than clear. She stared at the icicle for a long time before throwing it away. Well, that was fine too. She’d find other sources of water. Since there were trees and plants here, there must be something keeping them alive.

Tafel shook her head and raised Minerva’s feather. Hopefully nothing happened to Susan and Emile. She could only take solace in the fact they were phoenixes and couldn’t truly die, but if she had to bring them back as infants, Tafel wasn’t quite sure how Minerva would react. Tafel pursed her lips and followed after the traces the two phoenixes had left behind. Luckily, the magic from the feather still worked, or Tafel would really have no idea what to do.

***

The Recordkeeper glanced around with an open mouth and wide eyes. All around her, there were clouds, and beneath her, there was a vast expanse of green and brown. Stella blinked at the Recordkeeper’s expression. “Why are you so surprised?” the fairy queen asked. “We’re not even anywhere yet. You act like you’ve never flown before.”

The Recordkeeper shook her head and fixed her expression. “I’ve flown, but I’ve never flown on a dragon’s head before. This experience isn’t even recorded by any of the ravens. Besides, there’s a difference between flying yourself and riding something that can fly. You wouldn’t make fun of a human for being surprised when he’s on top of a horse when all the horse is doing is running.”

Stella rubbed her chin. What the Recordkeeper was saying made sense. However, there was something that didn’t make as much sense. “Why are you here again?”

“Vur captured me and placed me on his head to tell him which way to go,” the Recordkeeper said. “I think he learned it from Grimmy; the action was performed almost exactly the same. You were there to witness it. Why are you asking?” The Recordkeeper’s eyes lit up. “Oh, right. You’re a fairy. Asking questions and being annoying is part of your nature. I apologize.”

Stella’s face twitched. “Well, Vur’s sleeping right now, so why don’t you run away and escape?”

“Is he really?” the Recordkeeper asked. “How can you tell?”

Stella pointed at the snot bubble growing out of Vur’s right nostril. The Recordkeeper had to lean to the side to see it because it was being pushed down by the wind.

The Recordkeeper nodded. “This certainly does seem like something Vur would do. I’ve never received any images of dragons sleeping while flying though. Are you sure this is safe?”

“He’s done it a lot, and he hasn’t crashed yet,” Stella said.

“Oh.” The Recordkeeper raised an eyebrow. “How do you wake him up? Is there a certain keyword?”

“No. You have to pop the snot bubble,” Stella said. “That’s the secret to waking up dragons.”

The Recordkeeper blinked. “In that case, do you have a stick?”

Stella tilted her head. “Don’t you see how small I am? Why would I carry around a stick?” She pursed her lips. “Are you thinking of waking Vur up? He gets grumpy when he’s woken.”

“Well, if he doesn’t wake up, that cloud village he wants to see will be disappearing a lot faster than predicted.”

Stella turned around. At some point, the clouds in the sky had turned golden. She hadn’t realized it earlier, thinking it was just the trick of the sun; however, now that she was deeper within the clouds, she knew the cloud’s color wasn’t caused by anything other than the fact that it was golden. There seemed to be a platform up ahead, and on that platform, clouds in various shapes—mostly spheres but some vaguely humanoid—were milling about. The platform was getting closer and closer with every passing second. “Vur!” Stella shouted and sank into Vur’s head. A moment later, the upper half of her body appeared above his nostril. She jabbed her arm into the snot bubble, popping it. “Stop!”

Right when it seemed like he was about to crash into the main cloud, Vur’s eyes shot open, and he spread his wings while leaning back, slowing himself down. When he came to a halt, his head was inches away from a cloud structure that looked like a palace. Stella exhaled and patted her chest. That was close! If she had woken Vur just a second later, perhaps a disaster would befall the cloud people. “That was—”

Achoo!

Vur sneezed, and the palace was blown away like a pile of dust. Vur sniffed and blinked a few times before looking around. “Oh?” he asked. “We’re here?” His gaze scanned the surface of the cloud. “Are we in the right place? Wasn’t there supposed to be a palace?”