He’d been pulled here by a rift, a wound in the sky that spat him out into the Aetherian wilds. And for the past three days, Zetterburn had hunted him. Not for survival. For sport. The lion saw Ness as a curiosity, a soft-skinned anomaly to be crushed and forgotten.
Zetterburn laughed, a sound like a landslide of hot coals. "Home? This is your home now. Ash and bone." rivals of aether ness
Ness didn't run. He stepped in . Close. Too close. He could smell the sulfur on the lion's breath, feel the individual points of heat radiating from his mane. He pressed two fingers to his own temple. He’d been pulled here by a rift, a
"You—!" he rasped, ice crystals falling from his singed whiskers. For sport
Ness tightened his grip. The psychic pulse of this strange, elemental world was a chaotic drumbeat compared to the steady hum of Eagleland. His PSI felt… muffled. Sluggish. Like trying to shout through a pillow. But the fire in Zetterburn’s eyes was real. The heat on his cheek was real. And the quiet, desperate courage that had made him face Giygas was still real, too.
"I don't want to hurt you," Ness said, and meant it. "I just want to go home. So either you help me find a way back to that rift… or I'll learn exactly how much fire it takes to melt a glacier. Your choice."