As Stian tumbled down the last small bit of slope, he uttered one last curse under his breath and began the extended process of dusting of his robes. Beyond some patches of dirt and a few caught twigs, the robes looked exactly the same as they did before. Stian did not. He was out of breath and almost shaking. The trip down had taken all of his remaining energy. At this rate he wouldn’t make it to the restaurant. He took up his sword in a shaky grip and it glowed brightly in response to him. The longer he held it, the easier his breathing became. Color came back to his cheeks and he stopped shaking. He hated to use up his sword’s reserves like he just did but it couldn’t be helped. Stian stowed his weapon and waved to the airborne girl, sun glaring in his eyes. The village was just ahead of them, as it wrapped around the entire mountain