There's a cliff. A large span of rock with a drop into nothingness. People stand on the cliff, crowding and pushing and lifting children onto their shoulders. I stand among them, skin pressing in on all sides. The people move closer and closer, crushing me and crushing each other and screaming with fear.
     There's a wall behind us, with no room for even one more person, lest another fall off the cliff, yet our numbers seem to grow continuously.
     Through the mass of shoulders and heads and arms, I can see movement. A swarm of fliers hangs in front of us, watching. Then one by one they turn to leave.
     They fly away into the darkness, and the screaming doesn't stop.

     Breakfast is a tense affair.
     When Queen Athena made her declaration, it didn't take long for the word to spread to every human and flier in Regalia. Half the guards patrolling the Waterway returned to the castle wall where the fliers proceeded to leave their humans and take off for the flier caves. The other half stayed on patrol, but their rigid bearing gave their uncertainty away in heartbeat. Other fliers in the city left without a word to their bonds. Others simply never returned—abandoning their plans and friends to follow the law of the Queen. Some remained, but their numbers were so few that it was heartbreaking.
No one wants to mention the subject, but there's nothing else that could possibly occupy anyone's minds. So breakfast passes without a word spoken among us.
     Now I'm alone in the arena, training with just me, myself, and the equipment. Demetri showed up on the castle wall this morning, though I was planning to walk if I couldn't find a flier. She didn't say anything to me, just let me climb on her back and headed straight here.
     I couldn't thank her after she stood between my and Queen Athena. I couldn't find the words.
     Though it's been less than day since the fliers left us, I have had the same vision eight times. The humans on a cliff, packed too closely to count, and the fliers leaving without a word. Over and over my doom and gloom is interrupted by this scene that just creates more feelings of despair. It lasts longer each time too. Sometimes the fliers hesitate before leaving. Sometimes they turn without a backward glance. Sometimes a human slips over the edge before the vision comes to an end.
So I've decided that the best current solution for me is to focus on something other than the despair for as long as I can, because my visions aren't going to give me any breaks to cheer up.
I have the practice dummies out. Their bodies are made of straw and spider silk, woven so tightly that it's like cutting into hard wood. Though the Underlanders don't have trees, they've found many ways compensate for the lack. The dummies aren't shaped like anything in particular, but have a tall barrel form that allows for low and high swings. My rager sense isn't active, but I'm just as focused as if it were. I don't have much control, but I've found that practicing apart from my rager gives me a bit more focus when I reunite with it. I cut and slash and stab at the dummy until my muscles are burning and sweat coats my arms and back.
     I think of the scuttlers and their armor, the strength and speed of their movements, and I increase the strength and speed of my own blows in response. I think of the fliers leaving us to walk alone and I bounce on my toes, increasing my mobility. I remember the number of enemies I faced at once, and without someone guarding my back, how that number will be even greater. In response I whip around, coming at the dummies from all sides, surrounding myself with their indomitable towers until I almost believe they have eyes of their own.
I've so focused on the task at hand that when I hear a voice whisper in my ear, "You stink." I leap away, trip over my own feet, and fall on my face in front of the dummy. The laughter behind me reveals the whisper's identity to be Luxa.
"Really?" I groan, and turn over to see her doubled over with laughter.
"That was—ha ha—that was—" Luxa tries to speak but fails.
"Priceless?" I finish her sentence.
"Priceless?" She responds, still chuckling. "Is that—an Overland saying?"
"Yeah." I lean back on my hands and look up at her. "When something is so amazing or funny or special, you can say it's priceless. Because you can't put a number on how much it's worth." I think about how stupid I must have looked trying to run away and falling on my face. "Priceless probably fits what happened pretty well."
Luxa pauses for a moment, as if to recall the image to her mind, giggles and says. "Yes. That was priceless."
"Glad you enjoyed it."
     And silence. As we both try to think of something to say other than the obvious thing that's on both of our minds.
     "Are you out here to distract yourself?" Luxa asks me.
     "Are you?" I counter.
     "Yes. And you, Gregor, are also here. That is another benefit." She gives me a little smile.
     "Yeah." I take a deep breath and tilt my head even further back to gaze at the cave ceiling above. "Luxa, you know, I—"
     Everything is gray.
     There's a cliff. A large span of rock with a drop into nothingness. People stand on the cliff, crowding and pushing and lifting children onto their shoulders in a desperate attempt to move closer together. I stand among them, skin pressing in on all sides, crushef by tears and screams of fear.
     There's a wall behind us, with no room for even one more person, lest another fall off the cliff, yet our numbers seem to grow continuously. A face to my right vanishes with a bloodcurdling scream, and I know they've fallen. Another follows a moment later with the wail of a young child. Tears fill my eyes and roll down my cheeks, wetting my shirt and the ground beneath me that I can hardly see.
     I look up and through the mass of shoulders and heads and arms, I can see movement. A swarm of fliers hangs in front of us, watching. Then one by one they turn to leave.
     They fly away into the darkness, and a wave of people fall of the edge, screaming. I don't stop crying until my own feet slide over the edge and I fall without the familiar comfort of silver fur to ease my fear and save my life.
     "Gregor?" Luxa stands over me, that same worried expression on her face—the one that annoys the hell out of me. But instead of getting angry or pushing her away, I try something different this time.
     "Don't worry, Luxa. I'm fine." I sit up and place a hand on top of hers. "It's only a vision about the fliers leaving us. I've had it several times today already."
     "Oh." Luxa's face relaxes. She opens her mouth as if to ask something else but quickly closes it. I feel something tighten inside me when it happens. I know she's staying quiet because she's afraid I'll get angry. She's afraid that I'll close myself off and leave her again. She's afraid I will no longer be by her side. Why did I ever make her feel that way?
     "It's fine." I pull my feet together and sit up straight, hands in my lap, leaning slightly toward the queen: the perfect image of diligence. "Ask away."
     "Really?" Luxa raises an eyebrow.
     "Really. Maybe the vision keeps repeating because I'm missing something. Maybe another opinion will help me figure it out. Fire away." Luxa raises her other eyebrow. "Just an Overland saying."
       "I guessed so." Luxa's lips quirk with a tiny smile. "Careful not to be burned."