Your glider-wings settle on the creaking stone sails of the wind‑mill sanctuary as the amber sunset gilds the turning blades, and the winged fox's starlight‑feather shivers with the scent of hot herbal tea brewing in the mill's hearth. The rhythmic chime of wooden windmills blends with the soft rustle of mossy rope bridges, promising a brief respite before the sky‑islands' levitation wanes.