The trunks of trees rolled past, illuminated by Shane's storm sorcery from above. A slight purple sheen indicated the location of Astrid's new spire nearby. Then, two dull orange lines appeared, parallel and set apart, demarking the edges of the runway. They smoldered and steamed, but did not produce enough light to illuminate the geomancers. A loud crack resounded through the air, as the glowing magenta behemoth, Brigid's animated armor, opened fire on some unseen enemy.

Felix felt the wind on his face as they flew. The cabin of his airplane had been very warm because of the burning engine. He was starting to feel cold, but the sensation was not completely unpleasant. They were flying at the plodding pace of storm sorcery, so the gusts of wind made it difficult to judge his airspeed. He realized that if he had been flying much faster, the cold night air would likely cause his face to burn.

Half a dozen soldiers with torches marched forward as Shane lowered Felix to the ground.

"Bring out the prototype," Felix snapped. "Bring me furs, goggles, and a scarf. Go, now!"

After the soldiers left, Shane said: "I am going to return to the battle. Try not to let yourself get shot down again." He began to float away. Then he turned, crackling with sorcerous lightning, and raced off over the treetops, out of sight.

Felix stood in silence by the trails of lava and watched the sky. The crimson trails of the closest squadron faded and vanished. The Paladins were going to begin another attack. Three more airplanes began to ascend from beyond the forest. He sighed. Losses were inevitable. By all measures, Felix himself should have died. Flying was very unforgiving, but that unforgiving aspect of flight was also deeply ethical. It helped that nobody on the ground could issue direct commands to a Paladin in flight.

There is nothing wrong with surviving, Felix thought. I was not flying with anyone else in my aircraft. I did not simply dump my mistakes onto somebody else.

Something about this line of thought was unsatisfying. Felix continued to fume over this until the soldiers returned dragging the prototype aircraft by the tail. Felix moved as if in a trance, not paying much attention to his actions. Takeoff was unremarkable, and Felix suddenly realized that time seemed to have skipped forward. He was flying again, with a scarf covering his mouth and glass goggles covering his eyes. The cold wind struck the small windows of exposed skin between the goggles and the scarf.

I can feel the wind on my face.

He rolled the wings and began a turn toward the south. Felix had the uncanny feeling that he was stationary, and that his inputs to the controls had the effect of moving the entire world. The starry horizon rotated around until he was facing the cliffs, the basin, and the invading army. The wash created by the propeller revealed little information about his airspeed. He figured that he should create a barrier using wind magic, but something felt so right about that wind hitting his face, buffeting his clothes.

Felix could see the lights of the battlefield to one side. He regarded that light. More drakes and airships were crawling out of the darkness. Soldiers fought for their lives. If only I could do more for them, he thought.

You can do so much more.

It was not the familiar voice of Astrid in his head. Instead, it was the voice of a girl-child, with a delicate crystalline quality to it, high-pitched like wind chimes, with a slight echo. Felix could not recall ever hearing that voice before, but something about it seemed familiar.

You don't remember. You cannot remember. But I remember you. I remember your soul. You were there, Felix, just your brain and your heart, trapped in a box. The discarded shell of your body was given to the blizzards in the Plane of Fire. Ingrid found you, in the Plane of Stone. She led you all to the Plane of Dreams, through her dream. I saw you then, flying beside Ingrid in your fighter jet. I made note of your soul.

"Who are you?"

I am Titania, second-born of the High Daughters. Your soul belongs to me, mortal. Heed my command. Inspire them! Give them an ideal to strive for! Bring my light to this land, for me, and with my blessing.

Suddenly the darkness of the forest gained color. He flew out over the escarpment then, and the cliff dropped away to the basin far below. Felix could see clearly: brilliant shining blue drakes that glistened as if illuminated by the sun, white oval airships pregnant with soldiers, swift black arrows fired by Brigid's construct that filled the sky with gore. He could see the wings on either side of the craft, gently bobbing up and down in the wind. He could see his arms, the stick, his legs, the rudder pedals, the spinning propeller. He could see it all, as clear as day. Then he saw the slight rainbow sheen to the colors within the cabin, and he realized that he was glowing.

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Shane shot waves of lightning at the pairs of wolf-like creatures. There were more pairs now, half a dozen in total. Three black wolves and three white wolves. They roamed about, uncontested, devouring the souls of the Heritage Militia soldiers. The Quarian forces had been forced to retreat away from the escarpment, because they had no answer to the demonic creatures that hunted them. Nothing Shane did seemed to help. The creatures did not seem to be bothered at all by his sorcery.

Suddenly, all of the wolves stopped moving completely. To the last, they turned their gaze to the south. Some brave soldiers charged forward and began to hack away at the creatures, with no effect. Sobriety set in, and the soldiers too fled, abandoning their futile task. The wolves remained, standing proud upon a field of corpses, with their eyes fixed skyward. The trees all around began to brighten, changing from midnight black to forest green. The pools of black blood that covered the battlefield began to brighten into red and blue. Beyond the escarpment, Shane could see very far, all the way to the basin floor, and in the space between, the white airships and blue drakes were all clearly visible, as if it was midday.

Then, as one, the pairs of wolf creatures all vanished in puffs of black smoke.

Shane looked up to the south as well. Something very, very bright was moving away. Shane realized that it had the shape of a very small airplane. Felix, he thought. Alice said that Felix was glowing after he tested the prototype for the first time. But this was much more than she described. The light was blinding to look at, and it illuminated everything for miles around.

The sound of hoofs approached from behind. Shane snapped around to see Albrecht, the Supreme Commander of the Heritage Militia, trotting up to the battlefield on his horse. "Do not look at the light!" he bellowed. "That's an order! Soldiers, do not look at that light!"

Shane felt pity for the older man. His commands fell on deaf ears. All of the living militiamen stared up at the sky, speechless, unmoving. A squadron of four airplanes roared overhead, blasting the enemy drakes with crimson fire. The soldiers on the ground began to smile at the sight. Then they began to cheer. Then they began to charge. Sabers in hand, they rushed forward into the packs of stunned Rilnese soldiers.

Albrecht screamed and fell from his horse. Three nearby soldiers deftly caught him, preventing his head from hitting the ground. "It hurts!" Albrecht cried. "Ashe! Save me Ashe! I don't want to be blind!" He writhed around, causing the soldiers who held him to lower him slowly to the ground. He kept screaming. "I did not ask her to bring my soul here, Ashe! I want to go back! Ashe, please, Ashe!"

Shane turned his eyes away.

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Felix could clearly see every single enemy drake in the sky. It gave him the impression of standing beside an aquarium, with the schools of sky-fish slowly swimming in one direction. Most of them were slow, burdened with dozens of naked Quarian civilians chained to their backs. Others were unburdened, and therefore dangerous. Felix targeted them. He brought one into his propeller disk. If it saw him, it did not react. It flapped its wings wildly, spinning about, twisting its neck in strange ways. As Felix passed behind an airship a pitch-black shadow crossed over the target.

Felix suddenly realized the drake had been blinded by the light.

He can probably still hear me though, Felix thought. Indeed, as he approached the drake began to attack with draconic flame. It was not too hard to roll out of the plume of azure flames, and answer with a crimson plume in turn. The flames caught the enemy drake in the neck. It began to veer into its human form as it fell. A second drake heard the exchange and began to attack. Felix kicked the rudder and dodged behind an airship, using the hanging gondola as cover. Blue flames struck the gondola, splintering it and incinerating the people inside.

He darted in and out, blasting enemy drakes apart and then vanishing out of sight. Two, three, seven, ten... he lost count of how many drakes he killed. He lost all sense of time. At some point, more Paladins descended and attacked the drakes closer to the escarpment. For the first time, the enemy appeared to slow their advance. Some of the enemy drakes began to turn and flee.

When he finished killing the unburdened drakes, he began to attack the burdened ones. Then he began to rake the enemy soldiers on the ground. Finally he began to attack the enemy airships, burning holes in their bloated gas bags, causing them to plummet down toward the basin. Periodically the other Paladins would form up and follow him. One at a time they gave up and returned to the airstrip, and eventually, after killing the last of the airships, Felix was completely alone in the sky. He flew to the far battlefield, beyond the Teeth of the Red Dragon, and flew one final pass over all of the battlefields, bathing them in triumphant light.

The approach to the runway was clear, and the runway itself was empty. The remaining aircraft were parked along the sides, as they had been before they departed. Felix landed, and pulled back hard on the stick to prevent flipping over. Soldiers sprinted alongside and caught the tail with ropes, pulling him back to a stop. All around the forest began to darken as the light faded. He tried to pull himself up out of the cabin, but his legs were too stiff. He groaned. By torchlight, the other Paladins hoisted him up and dragged him out of the vehicle.

"How many died?" Felix rasped.

"There are seventeen of us left," Neasa replied. "Including yourself."

"Too many," Felix said.

"It could have been much worse, for everyone." Neasa said. "I think you probably saved the lives of half the army tonight."

Felix shook his head. "It isn't enough. The Blue Dragon will send more armies. We are going to need to scale up production and recruitment. Quickly."

"We can worry about that tomorrow. Tonight we should celebrate."

Before Felix could protest, he heard the voice of the Purple Dragon in his mind: Felix, you should rest and celebrate tonight. Cherish your time with your living companions. Do not be afraid of the Blue Dragon. I am going to travel to the south and kill him tomorrow.