By main force, he dragged himself up and over the ledge, then rolled over on his back, rising up briefly to get off his tail, then laid there until he managed to get his breath back. He didn't care who saw him by then, so thankful he was that he simply made it.

Sarraya managed to drag herself up to the top of the spire a few moments later, landing on top of his chest and sitting down heavily. Her tiny shoulders were heaving as she panted, but she looked at him and gave him a mischievious grin. "I see you made it," she puffed.

"Barely," he said in reply. "It gave out on me just as I reached for the ledge."

"Sorry about that," she wheezed. "If I wouldn't have made that spiderweb, it would have lasted a few seconds longer."

"I made it, that's all that matters," he said dismissively. "The only problem now is how to get down."

Sarraya looked at him, then laughed. "We didn't think that far ahead, did we?" she admitted ruefully. "I tell you, Tarrin, you're a bad influence on me."

"I guess it's contagious."

"Well, we can just wait a while and rest, and I can use the same trick to get you down. Since you'll be going down instead of up, you'll probably be able to get to the ground faster."

"Right. I could jump off. That would get me down faster."

She looked at him, then stuck out her tongue at him. "I meant safely," she said archly.

"I'd be perfectly safe. At least until I hit the ground, anyway."

She looked at him crossly, then laughed. "What's gotten into you, Tarrin? You were never this funny before."

"Blame it on the air," he said absently, dislodging her as he sat up. She settled in on his thigh instead as he sat up and looked towards the obelisk. It was about fifty spans high, made of the same black stone as the pillar. But the obelisk was made of blocks of stone, not one piece, constructed with four sides that sloped to a central point, like a pyramid. The sides were relatively steep, and he could see that there wouldn't be much room inside. Probably one very large room, or a few smaller ones. He had the feeling that it would be one room. The place looked like a temple or shrine, and things like that demanded large rooms to showcase the holy objects that they often contained. This place seemed to be little different. He couldn't see an entrance, but he also could only see one side of the obelisk very well. Its shape and design told him that it was four-sided, but he couldn't see the other sides. "No entrance on this side," he noted.

"What side are we on?"

"West, I think," he said, looking up at the Skybands to determine his direction in relation to the obelisk. "West," he affirmed confidently.

"Let's try the north face. Humans have this thing about north. I've never understood why."

"An irrational need to follow directions, I guess," he told her as he dislodged her again as he got up.

"What do you mean?"

"The compass always points north," he told her as she managed to flitter up into the air.

"Ohhh," she said, following him as he rounded the obelisk to get on its north side. "I get it."

Despite Sarraya's concepts of humanity, there was no entrance on the north side of the obelisk. He continued around to the east side, and that was where he saw the doorless opening. It was a wide archway, with a keystone at the top made of a pure, snowy white marble that totally contrasted with the black stone surrounding it. Tarrin gave Sarraya a flat look before crouching down and getting up against the wall, and then creeping along the wall until he reached the edge of that arch. He couldn't hear anything coming from inside, but there was a light emanating from within, a pure white light that was made by no fire, torch, or candle.

He peeked around the opening, and found himself looking into a singular large chamber, a chamber that filled the entirety of the inside of the obelisk. Its floor was tiled with pure gold squares, with silver mortar holding them together. The floor was burnished and polished to a mirrored shine, reflecting the white light within. The interior walls of the obelisk were unadorned, the same glossy black rock as the outside, also reflecting the light and making the inside of the obelisk as bright as a cloudless day. There were only three objects inside that grand chamber. One was a rather plain wooden chair, its back to him. The second sat within that chair, and from his view, he could see that it was an Aeradalla that, for some reason, only had one wing. The third was the within the light itself, being generated by the Conduit that ran through the center of the chamber, hovering some six spans off the floor, just over the head of the seated Aeradalla.

It was a crown.

A large crown made of gold, beaten gold with eight tines circling its golden circumference. Inset into that gold at each tine was a gem, each a different color that he could see. And from that crown emanated the powerful magical energy he had sensed rides ago, a magic that had drawn him to it like moths to a flame. From that distance, he could see the energy flowing through it, coming from the Conduit in which it had been placed.

"Is that maimed Aeradalla dead?" Sarraya whispered. "He hasn't moved an inch since I saw him."

Tarrin didn't answer. He slid inside the archway, and then he boldly padded right into the chamber, towards the crown. There were no other scents or sounds in the chamber, which meant that it truly was as empty as it appeared to be. The Conduit seemed to shimmer and vibrate, and it became more and more pronounced as he approached it; the Conduit was reacting to him just as strands did. He doubted it would bend in, as strands did, for Conduits were much larger and more fixed in their positions than strands, so he deemed it safe to advance. He came around the chair and looked down at the Aeradalla seated there.

If he wasn't dead, he certainly looked it. It was a middle-aged Aeradalla, though his appearance looked to be one much older than he truly was, with only one wing that looked to be atrophied from lack of exercise. His eyes were closed, and his whitish-blond hair was dirty and matted from lack of grooming. He wore a simple robe made of velvet, black and tied with a silken cord. Raiment more suited for a noble than a crippled, shrivelled Aeradalla.

"He's not dead," Sarraya noted. "He may as well be, though. I guess Aeradalla wings don't grow back. Without his wings, he can't get down from here."

Tarrin turned away from the unconscious Aeradalla and stared at the crown. It was indeed the magical object he had sensed, and that close to it, he could feel its power rippling through the air around them. It was the crown that sustained the city, but how it did that was quite beyond him. Its weaves were so unbelievably vast and intricate that he could spend his entire life studying it, and only understand half of what he was seeing. The only thing of which he was certain while he stared at that unassuming crown was that no mortal had the ability to make such a thing. It had to be a product of the gods.

Such power. He had never felt anything like it. It was almost intoxicating, trying to seduce him with promises of holding high a power unrivalled in the world, filling his subconscious with images of adoration and the fulfillment of his every wish and desire. But Tarrin wasn't like others. He found the power of it to be enticing, but Tarrin's motivations were not human. Wealth and power and might meant less to him than security and contentment and well-being. He already had some of those things. He didn't need power to make himself feel any better, or give to him what he could get on his own without its help. He could see the magic of the crown, and he understood that what it offered was not power, but enslavement. And he would never be a slave to anyone or anything ever again. Not a person, not a god, not that crown. Its power had tried to reach into him, but found that it had no effect on his alien mind.