Dragon's Flight

Dragon's Flight rests in the palm of your gloved hand, a small relic that feels almost alive. Its body is a slender talisman of dragonbone softly stained with bronze and night-sky sheen, scales etched along the surface like a whispered map. When you tilt it, a pair of wings—delicate as parchment and veined with copper threads—unfurl from the core and then tuck back in with a sigh of heat that seems to come from somewhere just beyond your skin. The texture alternates between cool stone and a whisper of warmth, as if a coin you once flipped in a storm still hums with memory. A glyph glows along the spine, a dragon’s eye that thins and brightens with the breeze, suggesting a bond between relic and wearer that transcends mere metal and dye. In hand, it feels both ancient and urgent, as if it has waited for this moment to be held again, to be used in a world that still bears the shadow of wings. Lore threads through its polished surface like the faintest of wind currents. Crafted from the shards of a long-lost dragonflight, Dragon's Flight is said to carry the last breath of a sky-kindled war and the promise of safer routes through storms. Masters who studied the old skies swore it ties a rider’s path to the dragon’s own memory of currents, letting the bearer ride air like a current rides a river. In that sense, the item doesn’t just grant a momentary gain; it invites you to walk a map drawn by ancient hands, to navigate routes where cliff faces and mountain edges meet the open, wind-swept nothing. In practical terms, the artifact is a companion to those who chase opportunities in the air as eagerly as on the ground. When equipped, Dragon's Flight heightens aerial mobility—gliding becomes a more fluid, kinetic experience, with longer sustains on thermals and a smoother transition between ascent and descent. It doesn’t conjure a miracle, but it makes the world feel more navigable, opening skyward shortcuts that reveal hidden ledges, perched ruins, and wind-lashed traverses that would have remained out of reach. It also pairs well with other mobility-focused gear, allowing the wearer to chain gliding routes into a single, flowing arc rather than a series of stop-and-start jumps. The lore tangles with the gameplay here: the more you learn the skies, the more Dragon's Flight seems to learn you back, nudging you toward routes that reward curiosity and patience. Market chatter adds another layer to its story. I watched a rider haggle along the stalls of Saddlebag Exchange, where gliders and dragon-scales shimmer under lantern light and the air tastes of tar and rain. The belligerent charm of merchants, the clink of coins, and the soft thud of a leather bag closing all stitched together a sense of value that isn’t just measured in gold. The price tag, worn on a weathered tag, suggested a figure in the high golds, a reminder that rare flight is a rare trust. It is telling, perhaps, that such a purchase isn’t merely about power—it’s about choosing a vantage, a new horizon, and the courage to aim for it. Dragon's Flight isn’t just an item; it’s a doorway. A story of wind, of dragons remembered, of travelers who learned to listen to the air and let it carry them toward places they once believed unreachable.