The rider touched the ground with a loud thud.
Behind them, the feathered dragon remained low, its long neck curved inward. Its eyes never left Sonder, still watching her with its pale eyes.
Up close, the rider was tall and wrapped in heavy layered gray cloth. Beneath the fabric were plates of dull metal that showed at the shoulders and chest.
The helmet they wore covered the rider's face entirely; behind the slits was a sort of darkness. It was smooth around but jagged at the top, with four wing-like fins, two rising and two falling, on either side.
Neither of them moved until the clouds above parted to give them a beam of light.
Sonder stood within, and the rider stepped forward to approach her.
It seemed then that the oppressive weight that had clung to the land slowly melted away.
But that was only for her. The creature of dust in her cupped hands shrank tighter, quivering into itself, the closer the rider came.
The rider stopped a few paces away. A long sword hung at their side, sheathed in dark leather.
The land and the creature of dust in her hands may fear the rider, but not she.
They inclined their head, just barely.
"Why have you come here?"
The voice was deep and hollow, like they were speaking from an empty room, and it carried a cold malice. It did not threaten, but the tone alone made it clear that Sonder was not welcome.
"I'm searching for something," Sonder said, undeterred.
The rider was still for a moment longer. "You dare come to claim from this land?"
She remained steady at the accusation.
Sonder did not move her feet. The dust creature tightened in her cupped hands, shrinking further, but she didn't look down at it.
"And what," the rider continued, "could possibly be worth walking into these lands? So weak. And alone."
There was a feeling of unease and doubt in Sonder; not fear, but a premonition of something bad.
"My business is my own," she said.
The rider lifted one hand and pointed at her.
"Have you not come to complete that which you have already begun to piece together?"
Sonder's grip tightened on her staff.
"If you know my purpose," she said, "then why pretend otherwise?"
"There are no accidents here," the rider replied. "No traveler wanders into these lands by chance. Instinct turns them aside. Fear sends them back. Those who stray without purpose are not worth notice."
The rider took one more step forward.
"But one who walks with intent," they said softly, "and power behind every step… that is a danger. And the lord must know of all dangers. Intentional or otherwise."
"Are you the lord?"
The rider shook their head once.
"No. My master sits far above, at the mountain's peak."
They gestured faintly toward the distant glow crowning the volcano.
"I advise you to leave, traveler. Whatever you seek, you will not find it here. Not by my lord's will. Stay, and death is all that awaits you."
They turned away without waiting for an answer.
The feathered dragon stirred, unfolding its wings. The rider mounted in one smooth motion.
With a single, ear-splitting screech, the dragon launched into the air. Its wings beat heavily, stirring dust and breaking the stones of the ruins as it climbed, circling once before vanishing back toward the mountain's shadow.