"DIAGO! SETTLE THE BIRD TO SAIL!"
The shout cuts through the storm like a blade, a massive orange creature—twice, no, three times my current crumbled size—roars the command, his voice echoing into the roaring wind. I can't see much, just the glow of Frank's arm in the dark; however, a heartbeat later, a flash of lightning cracks the sky.
Then the faceless one punches the wing of the bird—the great winged beast we're being carried on—as if it were his own beast to command. Its voice below, full of riot and rage. "You heard our lord!"
The name Diago sticks in my mind like a splinter. Behind him, another creature of its kind watches me with a grin. I recognize that one, it's the one who found me when I hid like a coward in the shadows, the one who dragged me out.
I want to curse him. I want to scream, but I do nothing. I keep quiet, like their obedient little pet. I hate myself for this. Hate how I've folded, how I endure.
My nails scratch against the cage's floor—the long feathers, dry from wind, wet from storm. The filth clings to me, and above me, the old man watches with disgust, his scowl burying itself deep into my thoughts.
But then—suddenly—I'm above him, above everyone. Floating.
And so they are only seconds behind.
Everyone in this cage. We all float like lost objects in space; the old man's glare vanishes as two others slam into him midair. His long nose cracks, his loose skin folds unnaturally, and the scream is drowned in the chaos.
Lightning pulses again, while thunder howls. The entire world is a riot of motion and sound.
People cling to the giant feathers around us. They grab tight, gripping like they can hold themselves to reality, one misstep and you're slammed into someone else, or worse, against the bars.
I hear gasps, cries, curses—bones snap, voices break. I try to breathe, but can't.
Only then do I realize: the bird, the massive beast we ride, is falling. It dives like a predator, like a hawk chasing prey, and for us, it's not a hunt, it's an execution.
The air thickens, presses into my lungs like concrete. Someone near me ages before my eyes—gray floods his hair, wrinkles claim his skin.
The stretch of skin, the ache in my bones. My back pulls tight, my limbs drag behind me, like time is warping us. The stink of human fear, sweat, and sickness fills the air—burning itself into my throat.
I catch a glimpse of Frank, trying to shield his face from the pressure, even as he floats helplessly beside me. Paula, her one arm locked around a feather, holds on for dear life, and another body slams into me, knocking the breath out of my chest.
A voice breaks through. "Oh, good girl!"
It's faint but growing louder, along with it, a headache pounds its way to the front of my skull. At first, there's nothing—just pure blackness, but then, redness overcomes me. Deep blood red, and a second later, it turns scarlet. My eyelids twitch open and close as colors shift, finally turning into a piercing orange.
Sweat drips down my neck, while I try to move, but I can't. My arms are tied behind my back, and panic floods in.
My eyes flicker. I crawl to the side. The motion exposes my ribs, my back. I feel dirt between my teeth, and taste the ground, solid and cold. Again, I try to stand up, but with no success. "Fnk?" I whisper.
I bite into something hard, and my teeth start to rattle. My skull pulses in pain, and I can't scream, can't even form real words. "Fnk," I try again. It's useless. The f^ull serie.s is ho&s&t*ed on *,$ known as M.V7^LEMP&Y!R.
Screams echo around me. They are distant at first, but eventually grow louder. Overwhelming. I squint through the light that blinds me, my eyes burning. I try to turn away—but it's too much.
Then, pain shoots through my scalp again.
Someone grabs my hair from behind, yanking me backward, and my stomach scrapes against the grave, tearing my skin into tiny cuts. I try to resist—but then I'm airborne again. Lifted.
Just for a moment, then—slam.
I crash against a wall without a second to breathe. Something cracks inside me, and I scream, but my voice is lost in the ocean of others.
Blinking to my left, there is a woman, stripped, shivering, eyes vacant. I turn right—a man, bound and trembling; his eyes meet mine, and I feel sick.
I choke on the air. Hyperventilating. My head jerks from side to side, and my neck snaps painfully, a shock running down my spine.
Then I see him, a face I'll never forget.
A smile twisted by something wrong; green gums, a green tongue, and behind him, more of them. More of those—Creatures. Watching. Waiting.
I want to look away, but I can't.
Women. Men. All of them huddled like sheep, corralled into a corner. There are some blue-blooded, a few greens, and one orange, if I'm not mistaken, but the rest like me, red inside their flesh, and all of us are in agony.