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I hate that I can't see anything from up high. It makes sense, of course. An anchor is theoretically a god's only vulnerability, so it makes sense to keep us out of reach where we can't be used as hostages or targets. Even so, I wish I was down there, at Kassam's side. I don't know how to fight or hold a shield or a sword. I doubt I'd have the energy to do either…but I still want to be there.
Waiting just sucks.
The pain eventually ebbs a bit, going from shards of jagged glass in my head to a low, unpleasant throb. My vision clears, and while the hollow feeling remains, I can more or less concentrate again. The day drags on, and as it does, the fires in the forest grow larger and more plentiful, until it seems that everything below us is ablaze. The scent of burning meat drifts up with the smoke, and my heart aches for the animals that traveled with us for so long.
At least, I hope it's the animals. A sick clench in my gut tells me that it could be anything.
As the day wears on, my anxiety increases. There's no word from Kassam, no white dove flying up to meet us overhead. My griffin continues to circle, and so does Margo's. When I look over at her, she's slumped in her seat, drooping in her makeshift saddle. She looks pathetic and weary, and I wonder if she's half as worried over Seth as I am over Kassam. I rub my stitches as we fly another leisurely circle overhead, the smoke thick in the air. By now, it's so smoky that everything seems to be burning—everything except the trees themselves. Kassam said they didn't burn, so I guess everything else must be on fire.
"Be safe," I whisper on the wind, and hope he can somehow hear it. "Please, be safe."
The sight of all those fires below terrifies me. Kassam says he can't die, but that doesn't mean he can't burn, that he can't hurt, that all the wild animals that pledged their allegiance to him can't die horribly. My throat grows tight with worry as the smoke invades my lungs, and still the fucking griffin flies circle after endless circle.
I feel like I'm losing my damn mind when a small white speck flies out of the dark, choking smoke, and circles around the griffin's head. Rubbing my watering eyes to make sure I'm not dreaming, the dove lands on my shoulder and I want to kiss the damn thing in gratitude. "Is it time?"
As if it can understand my words, the griffin underneath me lets out a mighty cry and tilts its wings, alternating the pattern it’s been silently keeping for hours and hours on end. Another shape flies out of the shadows, this time Margo's griffin with her clutching its back. Her face is dark with soot and she coughs as her bird circles mine. "Are we going down?"
"I think so," I croak, my throat shredded by the smoke I've inhaled. "I—"
The griffin dives before I can finish my statement, and then we're plunging through the trees, heading on a crash-course toward the center of all that smoke. Coughing, I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on tight as the griffin plummets, crying out in that noisy screech of his. When I feel him shift under me and slow, I peek an eye open just in time to see a massive central platform amongst the trees. It's burning, and the sight makes me want to cry. Houses are up in flames, people are running for their lives, and everywhere, everywhere, there are dead bodies. I see corpses of Seth's soldiers, their white tabards stained and torn. I see dead wolves and the corpse of one of the great wyrms, with a half-dozen pitchforks sticking out of it. I see the spindly legs of a deer hanging over one of the platforms, dripping blood. Somewhere in the chaos, there's a baby crying, and as I watch in horror, a man chases down a screaming woman, who rushes into a burning house.
Everywhere is carnage, and it makes me ache with the horror of it.
It's hard to comprehend just what war means until you see it, but as the griffin flies through the platforms, I see far too much. Everything is burning, the trees showing the strain. Branches are broken, platforms sagging and dumping their contents onto the ground below. As I watch, a rope bridge burns, a fleeing man falling to his death. There's so much screaming, so much despair. Sobs choke me, until I close my eyes, because I don't want to see any more. I can't and remain sane. I can't.
The griffin cries out, the sound different from before, and I open my eyes to see that we're heading directly for a new platform, larger than most, and it seems to be in the heart of the city. Less is burning here, but the smoke remains everywhere. The massive tree at the center of the platform looks as if it's hollowed out into a dwelling of some kind, and I can feel power pulsing deep within, like I did when we first met Seth, back on Earth. It's the pulse of another god.
