An explosion? Definitely something there. Perhaps a malfunction with some avian craft or a battle. And Roak... that name. Stian read about it ages ago. He heard of angels from that place. Something like silver was mentioned too. Perhaps their home country was something sounding of silver. It was easily assumed she was of the angelic race, though the color of wings were in starch contrast to that image. “Sounds like the memory loss is worse than we thought. I know a glorious place in Dojoville. Here’s hoping it’s still open.” Stian took off towards the North Gate. The cliff was steeper there but it was pose no problem for someone with the ability to fly. Stian glanced behind him and ushered a signal to her, as if to say ‘you coming?’ Stian thought of the rich stew they had once made when he went there. It would a great meal to replenish mana, and it made his stomach grumble at him.