The flight to Pyresia took five days, the land passing beneath the dragons in a patchwork of colours and textures. The deciduous woodland close to Genrit's cave faded into the westernmost reaches of the massive prairies of the Kerawac. The land grew rocky as the faint suggestion of the sea to the west draw closer until it was a constant blue smudge beside them. The wind became wet, warm, and briny, and a lush carpet of jungle greenery clung to the mountains rising underneath them. 

A dark shape of the Ash Peak started off as a dark shadow and grew by the hour. Even as the craggy jungle-infested mountains climbed higher and higher until the dragons were nearly threading their way through them rather than watching them pass by below, the volcanic cone towered over them, haloed by smoke and clouds. It was stunningly huge, even in comparison to dragons, and the shaped stone balconies curving out from its more vertical slopes were perhaps not as crowded as a wild dragon might fear.

The city itself seemed to tumble artistically down the slopes, colourful by way of both crafted structures and the presence of exposed seams of geodes and rivers of molten rock. Several styles of ships clustered in the deep harbour that was parly protected by a narrow cliff. There were many wide staircases and broad boulevards sized to the foot-steps of dragons, with hominid-sized roads and buildings lining them.

The closer they got to the city, the more dragons they say. At first they seemed to be other patrols with marked wings like Mojavico and his superior. But once their keen eyes could pick out the main of the city, other dragons appeared, eyeing the large white drake with varying degrees of interest as they went about their business. Some of them seemed to be flying just for the pure joy if it, using both the ocean breeze and the rising heat from the volcano to make it all nearly effortless. 

Mojavico pointed out various landmarks to Genrit as they flew, the males slightly behind Vesenthicar as their path took them upwards towards the summit. So high that clouds rolled between them and the ground and still the peak was above.

The pair brought Genrit to a large cave opening in the western face of the mountain. It was obviously a natural ingress, but had been further fashioned by the dwarves to improve its appearance and preserve it. The floor inside gleamed with flat marble tile, though the scraping of many dragon-claws had dulled it some. Two much larger dragons framed the entrance, watching their progress with shrewd gazes. One was a coppery red with smokey black wing membranes and the other was a gold so pale she was nearly yellow.

Neither Vesenthicar nor Mojavico spoke to them as they led Genrit inside, sandwiching the white in the middle of their trio as they moved into the Ash Peak.