The revelation another member of the party can fly is interesting, but should the method always be so flashy, Mayerling appreciates Dabi not acting as a guiding star for beasts to continue to hunt them. He could fly longer, but Mayerling would rather carry only his coffin, not everyone else along with it.

His cloak curls around the coffin to clasp it like the world's most unwieldy backpack. It exceeds Mayerling's head as it is built to contain him. His internal clock keeps him tuned to the promise of the sun. Luckily, they are in the cold seasons when the days are short and nights are long.

"Hmmm," Mayerling eyes the distance, "At our average pace, we could get a little over halfway there before I must rest." His timing isn't optional. It's a hard limit, and they will witness the flames if it gets pushed.

Very well. He takes the lead, listening and smelling the environs around them, to make some of the distance up.