It had been an hour since Zephyrion crossed into the Aerelith Empire. There wasn't any visible marker separating the two empires, but Zephyrion could tell he was no longer in Ferran territory.
The air no longer felt heavy, having turned noticeably lighter. A constant, comforting breeze brushed against him even when he wasn't moving. The air felt cleaner, freer, as though he were floating in a boundless sky.
But the greatest difference came from the WorldPulse. The boundless metal essence he'd always felt had gone faint, replaced by something far lighter and softer. Air.
It was a well-known fact that the farther one was from the source of an element, the weaker their power became. Of course, since the elemental gods fell, Ferrans and the rest of the elemental empires had come to regard their slumbering sites as the sources of their respective elements.
