The morning sun, crowned by 5 moons, but still timid, dyed the sky in orange tones while the dragonfly of metal, wood, crystal and magic, the Aetheria, flew 150m over the sea at 60km/h, its delicate and powerful wings buzzing in unison, supporting 1200 tons, 3 decks filled with 40 naval electric scorpions and 150 souls within 78.3m long, 10.5m wide and 8m in diameter of your hull.

Aboard the command bridge, I, Jacques, a seasoned explorer, felt the salty cold of the wind on my face, adrenaline pulsing through my veins.

The mission: to reach Ielkier, the mythical continent shrouded in mist and relentless winds.

Many expeditions have tried, many have gone, but none have returned.

The mist, like a ghostly veil, stretched for kilometers in all directions, a warning of the force of nature that guarded the continent. The Aetheria, with its 8 diamond fiber wings coated in powerful magics, fought against the winds, the 2 diviners in front of me, locked inside their sensory deprivation capsules, searched the sky and the sea, ahead, searching for hidden dangers, paths in the air and mana currents and sudden changes. Ahead could be seen the wall of fog, an impenetrable wall that surrounded Ielkier. It was a challenge, an enigma that fascinated me and all explorers like me.

The hours faded as we approached the whirlwind of fog and wind ahead of us. The Aetheria moved with precision, the 2 diviners detecting the safe path through the air currents, and reporting back through their apprentices and these report to me. The fog sometimes parted, revealing glimpses of the continent: snow-capped mountain peaks, green valleys and winding rivers. It was a wild and relentless beauty, an invitation and a threat at the same time.

We entered the wall of mist and winds.

And Aetheria begins to gain altitude to avoid any rising terrain, the diviners report. "We are blind."

It was then that things started to go wrong.

On the bridge I, my first officer, the 2 diviners, their apprentices, weapons officer and the noble leaders of the expedition, Gilles Laflechê the inquisitor and the adventurer Brice, cleric of Uanh, God of Destruction and War, all felt when a powerful magic hit the dragonfly, suddenly an enormous pressure and Suddenly, everyone who wasn't sitting down was thrown to the ground, along with the sound of screams and the sound of broken bones. Just before my vision went black, the dragonfly was hit by something that made it split in half.

I wake up with a jet of vomit that disappears into the sky. A deep calm hits me. It's not the first time my ship has been shot down and I'm falling towards my death, but it's the first time I wake up vomiting while falling.

Using all my training, I stabilize the fall and search the skies for dragonfly debris. Using the speed of the fall and the winds, I start to move away from the falling debris. I estimate that in just over 1 minute I'll hit the ground.

I take the opportunity to see the surroundings. The dragonfly has actually been split in two, it is on fire, three of its eight wings have been torn off and the reason for all this are three immense dragons, one is having fun as it finishes destroying the wreckage. Another is killing the survivors who, like me, were thrown out and are falling and the last one was in battle against Gilles and the adventurer Brice.

May the Gods protect and keep them. I turn my back and dive towards the ground, now it is every man for himself.

The thin air blew loudly in Jacques' ears, as he fell in free fall. His ship, a dragonfly explorer, had been shot down by dragons, adrenaline pulsed through his veins. The vision of the ground approached with frightening speed, increasingly clear, and fear invaded him, but with training and his vast experience, panic was out of the picture.

He had the battle and chaos behind him. Time was running out, and he found himself in a desperate situation. His only resource was the soft fall ring, which he had on his right hand.

With his heart pounding in his chest, he kissed the ring and said the activation word, "plumoj". But to his horror, he miscalculated the timing and before he could fully decelerate he hit the canopy of the forest below. The force of the impact broke several branches, and he felt a searing pain throughout his body before he finally touched the ground.

And for the second time Jacques embraced the darkness.

Jacques was unconscious for an unknown amount of time, but when he regained consciousness, he realized he was not seriously injured but is body ached everywhere, and he could barely move. The free fall had been brutal, and the impact with the trees had been even worse.

With great effort, he managed to get up and drag himself the wall of a well . The pain was unbearable, but he knew he had to stay strong. He had survived a 2,000m free fall and a brutal impact with the ground, and he was not going to let the pain defeat him.

The thick, cold mist seeped into the well, caressing Jacques’s wounded skin as he opened his eyes, dazed. Pain throbbed through his body, an echo of the violence of Aetheria’s fall. Six of his friends, equally beaten, lay scattered around him, some groaning softly. The deep, damp darkness engulfed them, the smell of damp earth and mold permeating the air. It was a hole, a prison, dug into the earth. The walls of cold, glass-smooth stone rose up around it, forming a tight circle, with only a narrow opening at the top that allowed a thin sliver of light to filter through. Jacques’s vision was blurred, but he could make out the rough shapes of his cell. The floor was uneven and damp, covered in a layer of leaves, mud, feces, and urine. In the center sat a bucket of shit and mud. Jacques’s chest tightened. They were trapped, in a well in the heart of Ielkier, a wild and unknown continent. What awaited them? Would they be rescued? Or would they become just another tale of shipwreck and disappearance in the history of the continent?

Stolen novel; please report.

The trapdoor at the top of the well opens and three flowing figures descend, two light red-skinned draconians dressed in silk and holding poleaxes and a small trapezoidal plate shield tied to their forearms. In the middle of the two, a human figure exuding an aura of power and mystery. His appearance, although apparently fragile, is a face wrinkled by time and marked by deep lines, and his eyes, small and dark, shine with a cunning intelligence. A thin gray mustache frames his thin mouth, which curves into a false smile. His body, thin, despite his advanced age, demonstrates the vitality of a man who has mastered the occult arts. His long, black hair is tied in a bun that extends to the nape of his neck, with a few stray strands falling over his forehead.

His clothing, although simple, conveys wealth and power. He wears a long, dark blue silk tunic, adorned with gold embroidery. A leather belt studded with precious stones girds his waist, On his feet he wears leather sandals, A pair of jade earrings adorn his ears, and a gold ring with a ruby stone sparkles on his index finger.

None of the three touch the ground.

He takes a handkerchief from inside his garment and covers his nose, a strong scent of lavender comes from the handkerchief.

With his other hand, he points to Jacques without saying anything. The draconians approach him and grab him by the arms, lifting him off the ground abruptly.

“Hey, what are you doing, where are you going…” says one of his companions as he begins to stand up. But as he does so, he receives a kick to the face that throws him against the wall, where he slides to the ground and does not move anymore.

At that, the four of them begin to float up the puddle. As they pass through the trapdoor, it closes shortly after.

The jailer, the man in the blue robe, with cold and piercing eyes, slanted, scans the prisoner's body, before announcing in a monotonous tone:

“The Feŭdastro summons you. Prepare to appear for trial. Justice, as always, will be relentless.”

Jacques, dejected and tired, looked up at the jailer. The hope that had previously kept him alive, went out like a weak flame in the wind.

“Trial? For what?” The prisoner's voice was hoarse, as if it had been unused for a long time.

The jailer, without hesitation, replied: "Justice, as always, will know what is right. It is not up to you to question it."

"But I was not convicted! They did not give me the chance to defend myself! Where am I, who are you?" Frustration flared in his eyes.

The jailer, impassive, just shrugged. "Justice does not need explanations. Follow me."

Jacques, with a heavy heart and a torn soul, was placed on the ground and then the draconians pushed him, forcing him to follow the jailer, his heavy steps through a large courtyard, in a square full of cobblestones and granite. In this square he saw at least a dozen other holes, but he did not hear any sound coming from them and since all of the trapdoors were closed he had no way of knowing if they were occupied.

Jacques was led through the busy square. With each step, the weight of anxiety made itself felt, a constant reminder of his situation. Some people watched the procession indifferently with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, most of them being humans and a few armed draconians like the ones they are taking..

Crossing the square, the group entered the gates of the imposing palace. The grand and unfamiliar architecture, with its imposing towers, concave roofs and ornate windows, evoked a feeling of power and opulence. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the corridors of polished orange marble, while the guards led them through richly decorated halls, with tapestries and sculptures that told stories of glory and power.

Finally, they arrived at a grand hall, illuminated by crystal chandeliers that cast a magical glow over the room. In the center of the hall, on a solid wooden chair, seated in a proud posture, was the Feŭdastro, his imposing figure, richly dressed in blue and green silks and his piercing eyes transmitting an aura of undeniable power. The prisoner, with his heart pounding in his chest, was taken to the Lord, his eyes fixed on the Draconian in front of him who held the power to decide his fate.

The man in blue silk takes a few steps closer and addresses the draconian sitting in the chair.

He speaks in an unknown language and points to Jacques. The draconian says something.

“What is your name, barbarian?” The man in blue silk asks.

Thinking about the treatment he has received so far, and how he was cured, it seems that these people do not want him dead, at least in the near future.

“Jacques.”

The Feŭdastro says something, clearly another question.

“What is your purpose, to invade the sacred land?” The man in blue silk asks.

“I did not invade, we are an exploration and search expedition!” Jacques says vehemently, looking at the draconian in the chair.

“LIES!” The man in blue silk screams, spitting in his face. A blow to the back of his head makes him see stars.

Another exchange of words between the man in blue silk and the Feŭdastro. Clearly he, is not translating exactly what I am saying.

“Barbarian, you said "search". What were you looking for?” He asks as if he hadn’t been yelling at me just now.

“I don’t know exactly, but it had to do with the plague, with finding someone.” I say as I massage my hand and feel something damp on my hand and the smell of blood.

“Plague? What plague?” The man in blue silk asks.

“About two weeks ago, several important and famous people died mysteriously and quickly, and others fell into a deep sleep and never woke up. The Sanhedrin of Cardinals of the Romani Empire hired me for an expedition to Ielkier, this continent, that’s what we call it. The expedition was led by Gilles Laflechê, the inquisitor, and the adventurer Brice, Only they knew all the details, I was just the captain of the Dragon-fly.”

Again, there is an exchange of words between the two, and the names of the two leaders are repeated several times. Finally, the Feŭdastro makes a clear gesture of dismissal.

I am soon nudged and, as I stand up, the man in blue silk, without looking at me, says, “Follow me.”

He turns and we leave the room, my heart races when I see that we are not going back the same way, but rather going in the opposite direction.