The winged monarchs soared through the sky, cannons clutched in their hands. They pursued the two intruders on the broomstick. Fireballs erupted from the cannons, hurtling towards the two like shooting stars.
The crimson orbs burst moments after they left the muzzles, engulfing the atmosphere with a scorching inferno. The sky crackled with flames, lighting up the misty horizon.
Alistair desperately maneuvered his broomstick, narrowly avoiding the explosive projectiles.
"F*ck it! How are we supposed to make it to the center in this?" He exclaimed, trying his best not to fly them both into a cloud of fire—because the entire place was lit. And hot!
The winged monarchs showcased their power with each explosive salvo, determined to bring them down.
'Is this intentional or rehearsed?' Alistair thought because what was happening could easily be mistaken for a firework competition between winged creatures.
