Velros Skybreaker shook his head, 'maybe I am just thinking thumbs,' he mumbled.
So he kept hovering in the sky with others, his sharp eyes narrowing as the crackling energy around the Skyclaw Brotherhood began to falter.
However, there it is again, he couldn't help but feel sothing terribly was wrong.
The Typhon Formation, their ultimate destruction magic, should have reached its peak by now, the power building in a surge that could obliterate the maze below.
Yet, the magic was stalling, the cyclone of energy swirling around them growing weaker and weaker rather than stronger.
His subordinates, the elite warriors of the Brotherhood, continued their tight formation, their wings flapping in rhythmic unison.
However, Velros could hear the murmurs of confusion and doubt creeping back into their voices.
"What's happening?" one of them shouted, his voice laced with panic. "Why isn't the formation working?"
Another warrior, his wings twitching nervously, glanced at Velros with wide eyes. "Leader! We should retreat! Sothing's wrong—this isn't how the Typhon Formation is supposed to feel!"
Velros opened his mouth to command them to hold their positions, but before he could speak, the first of the warriors dropped out of the sky.
It happened so suddenly, with no warning, that at first, no one realized what was happening.
The warrior simply plumted, his body falling limply as though a string had been cut.
His comrades watched in stunned silence as he tumbled through the air, his wings flailing uselessly before he hit the ground with a sickening thud.
"What the—?!" soone yelled. "He's fallen!"
Velros's heart raced as he looked down at the fallen warrior. Then, as if on cue, another one fell. And another.
Panic spread through the ranks of their brotherhood like forest wildfire.
One by one, the warriors of the Skyclaw Brotherhood began to drop from the sky, their wings unable to carry them.
So scread in terror, trying desperately to flap their wings, but their bodies continued to fall as if pulled by an invisible force.
"I—I can't fly!" one warrior cried out, his voice strangled with fear. "Sothing's pulling down!"
"No! No, it's not pulling us!" another shouted as he fell. "It's like… it's like we're just falling on our own!"
"Leader!" one of the younger warriors scread, his body spinning in freefall. "What's happening to us?!"
Velros watched, frozen in horror, as his warriors fell like leaves in a storm. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening.
There was no magic binding them, no visible force dragging them to the ground. It was as if the sky itself had turned against them.
"Fly! Fly away!" soone scread, trying desperately to break free of the downward pull.
A few of the Skyclaws managed to veer away from the formation, their wings flapping frantically as they tried to escape.
However, no matter how hard they fought, no matter how high they soared, their bodies inevitably began to drift downward, as if gravity had suddenly strengthened tenfold.
"I don't understand!" one of the older warriors wailed as he plumted. "We were flying just fine! Why are we falling now?!"
Velros's heart pounded in his chest, his sharp mind struggling to piece together the puzzle.
There was no visible threat, no magic he could detect. And yet… sothing had changed.
He could feel it in the air, in the way his wings moved through the wind.
Whatever was happening, it wasn't natural.
More warriors fell, their cries filling the sky as they hurtled toward the ground, their bodies smashing against the hard earth with sickening force.
Velros watched in helpless horror as his once-proud Brotherhood was reduced to a scattered, broken ss of feathers and bodies.
Finally, when only a few remained, Velros realized he was next.
He could feel it—the strange sensation creeping into his limbs, weighing him down. His wings, once so strong and reliable, suddenly felt heavy, as if the very air was turning against him.
"No," Velros muttered, his voice tight with disbelief. "This can't be happening."
But it was.
Slowly, inexorably, his body began to sink. He tried to fight it, flapping his wings harder, but it was no use.
The sky, once his domain, was betraying him. He looked down at the ground below, where his warriors lay scattered like broken dolls. And then, as the last of them fell, Velros followed.
His body moved of its own accord, falling faster and faster.
He tried to resist, tried to regain control, but it was as if so unseen force had taken over.
The wind rushed past him, and the ground lood closer.
Velros gritted his teeth, rage and confusion battling within him.
How could this be happening?
How could they be defeated by nothing?
As his descent continued, Lyerin's laughter echoed through the air, carried by the wind.
Velros could hear the mocking tone, the cruel amusent in the human's voice. "They fall like autumn leaves from a dead tree," Lyerin taunted, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. "So proud, so high, and now so weak."
Velros hit the ground with bone-crushing force.
KABAG!
The ground cracked! And half of his body was buried in the ground.
Pain shot through his body as he lay there, gasping for breath. His wings, once his greatest asset, were crumpled beneath him, useless.
For a long mont, he could do nothing but lie there, dazed and broken.
The world spun around him, with his thoughts in a chaotic whirl of pain and disbelief.
Why? Why had they fallen?
Slowly, painfully, Velros pushed himself up onto his knees. His body ached, his muscles screaming in protest, but he forced himself to stand.
As he struggled to his feet, he looked around to find the fallen bodies of his comrades.
His heart sank at the sight.
The Skyclaw Brotherhood, the elite warriors of Zordrix, was not beside him.
They were probably sent at the other part of the maze.
Velros flexed his wings experintally.
Flap! Flap! Flap!
The wind was still there, still brushing against his feathers. He could feel it, the familiar currents of air that had always supported him. But… why had they fallen?
The wind hadn't changed.
There had been no storm, no sudden shift in the sky.
So what had caused them to plumt?
His brow furrowed in confusion as he flapped his wings, testing them. He lifted off the ground, slowly at first, rising just above the height of the maze walls.
Relief flooded through him for a brief mont—he could still fly.
But then, without warning, his body jerked to a stop. He hit sothing—sothing invisible, an unseen barrier that blocked his ascent.
Velros cried out in surprise as he smashed into it, his wings crumpling against the invisible wall.
Kabang!
His montum halted, and he crashed back to the ground with a painful thud.
For the second ti, Velros lay there, gasping for breath, he could see pain radiating all over his body. His mind seeking an answer, trying to make understand what is happening.
There had been nothing there—nothing visible. And yet, he had hit sothing.
Sothing he couldn't see, sothing that had stopped him from escaping the ground.
He pushed himself up again, his movents slower this ti, his body heavy with exhaustion.
As he stood, his eyes lifted to the sky, to the invisible barrier that had trapped him above and the wall beside him below.
"What... what is this?"
Velros muttered to himself, his voice filled with disbelief. He could feel the wind, but it was as though the sky itself had been sealed off, as though he was trapped within an invisible cage.
Lyerin's voice bood from the distance once more, "In a maze of minotaurs, no one sees anyone flying above it," Lyerin said, sounding cold and mocking.
Velros gritted his teeth, his wings twitching at his sides.
He tried to flap them again, but he was down and down and down again!
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