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A screech left Harry’s throat as he found himself falling—no, plummeting—through the air. The air at this height was icy cold and the altitude made it near impossible for him to catch his breath.
In a fit of panic, Harry reached out—with his magic, with his body—for something, anything to slow or halt his descent.
Instinct forced his wings out—or rather, just one side of them. It did nothing to slow his descent, only bringing excruciating pain as the fall forced his solitary wing to twist.
Harry let out another panicked screech, desperately calling for his nearest Bonded, the one who had been in the portal with him.
He caught a glimpse of metallic rainbow out of the corner of his eye before a pair of strong, lithe arms wrapped around him. Then there was the strong beat of wings and the sensation of climbing, instead of falling.
Harry gasped and turned his neck so he could bury his head into a cool set of armor. It took a few minutes for his breathing to slow and to adjust to the altitude, but when he did, he let out an unhappy warble.
He received a sharp, equally unhappy trill in response. A heartbeat later, the pace of their climb quickened.
Despite the numerous Quidditch matches he’d played and all the time spent on a broom, Harry had never experienced being higher than the clouds.
There was an entire city in the sky, the brunet realized. One more ornate and towering than Nevarah itself.
“Where are we going?” he demanded of Minh as they climbed higher and higher through the air, into the highest parts of the tall city.
Minh didn’t answer at first, but his arms tightened around Harry. The Submissive twisted his head to look up at the Gheyo’s face. There was a stricken look on the Air dragel’s face and a near wild look in his green eyes.
Harry shivered and turned his face back into the Gheyo’s armor. None of that was reassuring.
“Home,” Minh forced out when he registered the trembles. “Now hush. You’re fine.”
For now.