I instruct Oollie and Whitehead to guard the Dungeon, and then I eagerly take LightsOut out and let him spread his wings.

Outside, I can see them in full light. They are magnificent, and I can feel his pride looking at his feathers.

It’s late afternoon and the day has cleared after a bit of rain we had earlier. The sky is with a few scattered clouds, and I doubt they would bother us, and there are still a few good hours of daylight left.

I take a deep breath, not knowing how to fly, but then I just push LightsOut and he does his thing. And it’s incredible. Right away the adrenalin jolts me. The rush of the air as we glide effortlessly down toward the forest. Then I make him flap his wings a few times, and up and up we go.

Something that I have to admit, I was always scared of heights, and seeing it through the eye of the eagle makes me dizzy. Yet, it’s so invigorating. I can’t stop. It’s unlike anything I ever felt. Anywhere I look, my eyes are filled with the beauty of the place.

We move at our own pace. It’s not like paragliding, depending only on the wind currents. Here, we are in full control. It’s like riding a bike with no sound and noise through the air, being relaxed, yet so stressed out as I look down, feeling… suddenly all right. All the fear is gone. LightsOut just is not allowing me to feel anything other than pride. He’s the king of heaven. How can I fear anything?

So, I scream as if we are on a rollercoaster. And keep on screaming again and again as we make it to the first cloud and suddenly lose sight of everything.

But then he flaps his wings a bit and up we go, up to the clear sky from where the trees look nothing more than a toothpick. I make LightsOut turn around and I realize we have already flown so far away I can only spot a dot in the mountain where the Entrance and Main Gate are supposed to be.

Then we turn around again and head toward the river.

I’m loving it.

And LightsOut is enjoying it too.

My eyes first zoom in on a few farms clustered together close to my place. It’s about where Nora and Verner ran to. I bet it’s their home. I actually see a few people there working the field, loading the hay in the wagon. There are kids among them. But…

I fly away. Let them be. Maybe some other time.

By the river, there is a larger settlement. Probably about fifty rooftops.

The snake of a river has a few spots on, and we dive a few hundred meters down giving me a rush of a lifetime to look at those spots closer, seeing them to be fishing boats. And a barge, carrying a cart with a lot of wooden barrels stacked on it and two oxen with big horns tied to it.

I can see it all clearly even as we are hundreds of meters above it.

Nobody pays us attention. And why should they? We’re bothering nobody. Not even making a sound.

I do not go too far over the river. I see a brown road and many carts traveling there, going East. And, far in the distance, see the late afternoon sun beams bouncing off the white stones of the tall castle walls. It’s impressive to see it from this far out. It must be more than a few days of travel on foot. I wonder what it is called, but decide not to go there, rather circle back and check on my near surroundings first.

I lose myself in the wind, in the sky so big and waste you feel it’s with no limit. Nothing matters. And, for the first time since I came here, I feel… free. Almost happy.

But then I realize I can’t share that happiness with people I love and decide to look for someone, anyone I may know.

I want to see what is down the river. There is a bigger town of maybe two hundred homes and shacks there. My heart pulls me there to a watermill and a little shack just next to it. As I’m getting closer to it, I feel warmth in there, a familiarity. Something wants me to come there. I bet it’s where the kid lives with his father Master Swordsman.

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Circling it over a few times, I’m looking for where to land. But… I do not. I decide not to bother them. Enjoying the flight so much that I am just not ready to ask what they are doing. I bet the old Master Swordsman would act all protective of his son. I’m guessing that’s why they have not been back. Let them be. And let me fly.

I look toward the mountains and head home.

Suddenly, while I’m catching my breath from all the breath-holding scenery, I realize something. I’m looking at it all… The whole world. It’s not a screen saver image. It’s not a 4K action movie experience either. This is real. So magnificent, so stunning. I make the eagle just slowly drift in the wind as I admire them. Sharp drops and cliffs everywhere. The all-white peaks. And I go for them, seeing how high I can go.

Feeling the power of the eagle, yet feeling how small and insignificant we all are. Nature… it is what matters. And we… we’re just byproducts that come and go. Less than a drop in the sea of life. And we think we can control it all, and manipulate it.

I want to see what is on the other side of the range, if… there is another side. I let the air current take me and I go over the peaks, leaving my Dungeon and the river behind.

The joy is so incredible I feel like I can do this all day long. I make the eagle go down, following sharp gorges as they twist one way and another.

I wish… I wish so much I could share such a feeling with others. The sight, the rush as I come down as a missile toward the earth, as I fly a tick over the tree tops, and up, up into the blue heaven.

As we fly deeper into the mountain range, I see a storm brewing far ahead, dark clouds piling on top of each other.

So, I decide to maybe leave the trip over the mountain for another day and examine the area around. The land is all dissolute here. No trees, not even shrubs. Not even a wild goat running and trying to hide from me. Yeah, I bet I could take it, easily.

Something pops into my head. If there is a dungeon there, I bet it harvested it all to feed its energy, and now nothing there grows.

A clear mark of a genius. No wonder he is no longer around. I promise not to make the same mistake.

Not ready to fly in that storm, I turn around and head back home.

I’m the lonely bird in the sky. Other than the sound of the wind that does not bother me at all, it is so quiet and peaceful I almost close my eyes and doze off.

But, it’s good that I don’t.

I see a lonely shadow passing over the snow, running. My eyes zoom in on it. It’s a goblin. Skinny one. Running. Well, time to see what we can do.

“Let’s see how you like that goblin meat now,” I tell LightsOut and he creaks, “Feed me better, feed me better.”

“Okay, you stay quiet, let’s approach him from the back. Your claws go around his throat. Then pick him up and carry him up. Dive now!” I issue the command and LightsOut executes it perfectly and dives silently down.

Just a second before we grab him, I realize why LightsOut is such an adequate name. The eagle is so big, that the shadow he casts on the goblin blocks out all the light. He instantly turns around and lifts his head up trying to see what’s up. But it’s too late. He does not even have time to shriek.

The eagle’s sharp claws tear through his neck while at the same time, LightsOut spreads wide his wings and flaps them a few times, taking us off the ground.

Goblin’s blood sprays out of his neck, and he tries to grab it with one hand to make it stop, but, to no use. I get the impression if I want to, I can make LightsOut squeeze his claws so tight over his throat that we could decapitate the goblin. But I decide not to do that. Have a better idea. We find the first rock and throw him down against it.

He smacks against it, but I’m guessing he is dead before his body hits the hard ground.

I think I want to take him and feed it to the dungeon, and then I see something still tightly grabbed by his dead hand.

We land next to him to see. It’s a scroll. Unlike those I have in the Dungeon. This is really just a thick brown paper rolled up and sealed with red wax. Nothing magical or high-tech about it. I pick it up with a claw, but can’t open it up. Maybe it’s valuable? For him to run with it, clinging to it so tightly even when he is about to die? Very likely. With a distinct seal in the red wax, it has to be.

Maybe I better keep it. But where? Just carry it in my claws? I can put it in my mouth. Keep it under the tongue. But it’s made of paper. And the eagle's saliva might hurt it and the writing. So, yeah, just keep it in a claw. We’ll take it home and read it.

I start following his trail to see where he was coming from. It’s easy to track it over the snow. It’s taking me North then turns East and enters a stony ground where there are no footprints to be seen. But I follow the line to where the vegetation starts again, a few sad pine trees.

And there, I see a sight that makes my heart stop. And it’s not because of the beauty of it all.

There are dozens of goblins on the ground, circling a lonely person who is fighting them all with a single shiny blade. The snow is not white there. Goblins' blood from their torn bodies crimsons it all around, soaking it well and deep.

The human fights them and dances around them, constantly moving, retrieving, running.

But the goblins are too many, and when they attack from all sides, I see one of them deal a nasty blow, causing the fighter to stumble, and I think it's over. But then somehow. the fighter wiggles out of the deadly circle and stabs one of the goblins in the face.

As I dive down, I do not need to get closer to see who it is. It’s Tarra, and, with the looks of it, she is barely clinging to her life.