55th of Ymiden 719
The hot gale winds of Ymiden rushed through his wings and feathers as Kalortah raced on the skies toward Athart. His heart soared as he saw those marvelous sandstone structures once more. The air whipped around him, his eyes tracing their currents and motions and discerning shapes on the wind that told him where he needed to go, to speed up his flight.
He lowered himself on the wing, into a spinning tail-dive and then righted himself on the air, proceeding on a horizontal path toward the Forest of Stone.
All thoughts of returning to his home in that place were banished, instead he wished nothing more than to greet the Grand Aeolian, to sing of the glories he'd missed while in the midst of the ground-walker filth of other nations. Of his adventures from Scalvoris to Yaralon, and finally back to Athart.
He didn't need directions. The Temple of Glories stabbed the skies in an act of defiance, taller than any of the other residences and structures and grottos in the Forest. He alighted to the edge of the Temple, which was paved with richly colored mosaics.
His eyes beheld each of the guards who took note of his return, and bowed his head in deference to them. Although the reception was warm, they probably didn't know who he was, but they would eventually.
Finally, he approached the perfumed and cushioned throne on which the Aeolian sat. And a dozen or so paces out from it, he knelt before it briefly, before being allowed to rise.
"Grand Aeolian, I've seen lands as far as Scalvoris, down to Volanta and Yaralon. The world is a cessmire of corruption and savagery, where groundwalkers that ought to be slaves speak over their betters. It is a far cry from our glorious, sacred city, which alone sits in defiance of the scourge of filth that exist beyond it."
He knelt again, though he knew it broke with protocol. But Kalortah was somewhat overtaken with emotion. "I have a song for you, your Grace, if you would allow me to sing it for your court?"