Lyra could not fly. To catch a thermal was to risk being shattered by the sheer pressure. To land too hard was to risk splintering into a million pieces. For twenty years, she had been grounded, a flightless bird forced to watch her kin soar among the jagged peaks. She was kept in the lower caverns, assigned to the delicate task of polishing the tribe’s glow-stones, sheltered from a world that was deemed too rough for her existence.
Lyra plummeted into the rift. The wind screamed around her, clawing at her face, but her heavy crystal wings kept her trajectory true and straight. She sliced through the chaotic updrafts that would have crushed a normal flier. Alas de Cristal - Carol S. Brown.epub
The Elders stood at the edge of the chasm, grimacing. "The winds in the rift are too chaotic," the Chief declared. "Any feathered wing will be tossed against the jagged walls. Any leather wing will be torn to shreds. We cannot save them." Lyra could not fly
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