Aethoria loomed before them, a city of impossible beauty suspended in the sky.
As their convoy approached the main entrance platform, Atenzi marveled at the shimmering spires and floating gardens.
The entire city pulsed with an energy he could almost taste.
Their arrival was met not by Alexander himself, but by his legendary right hand: Hephaestion Shadowweaver.
Half man, half griffin, Hephaestion cut an imposing figure.
His keen eyes seemed to pierce through Atenzi, measuring and evaluating.
"Welcome to Aethoria," Hephaestion's voice carried the weight of ages. "I trust your journey was... illuminating."
Báthory stepped forward, her posture regal. "Illuminating indeed, Lord Hephaestion.
We are honored by Macedonis's hospitality."
Hephaestion's beak curved in what might have been a smile. "The honor is ours, Queen Báthory.
