The Trial of air is a test of faith, but faith in what, the illusion magics of the either dead or corrupted masters of this school? Alas I cannot cross the air between rooftops and rocks without faith that the hidden path revealed by the sands is substantial. The reason a crow can fly is not simply because it has faith, but because it has wings, which I do not.
They say that the pessimist knows too much, whilst an optimist too little. As I know so little of how illusion magic works I guess I have little choice in this predicament but optimism. The optimist would keep their head pointed towards the stars, and their feet moving forward, so I look up and step out in blind faith; it is only now I remember that the sky over Craglorn is empty.