" You fall out of the saddle, off the dragon’s back. Free-falling headlong, the wind slicing hard at your body. You look down in disbelief at the city, which yawns and greets you as you speed toward it. You scream, seeing the scattered points of light, the slender buildings towering like spindles and nails, with lightning-rod needles at their peaks. You are going to die impaled on one of those sharp points or be thrown down onto the asphalt, your body smashed to bits like glass—a truly horrible fate, worse than being run over in the street. A long howl issues from your throat, echoing in the night calm. The "

― Nukila Amal , The Original Dream