All His Wrath

“Follow me,” Zarentil said, looking intently into Bettina’s eyes.

For Danielle, Freida and Anders, there wasn’t much to see beyond a little swaying back and forth at first, which seemed to be led by Zarentil. But for Bettina, it was anything but gentle and quiet.

It was as if he’d manually shut her eyes with the command to follow. If she’d not spent this recent time with gargoyles learning their ways, she was sure to have gone mad.

At first, they were soaring, very high in a cloudy sky, higher even than birds fly. She felt the cold but it mattered little because her breath was taken away by the stunning vista of clouds piled up like mountains of colors. Subtle blues, deep greys and pale lavenders surrounded them, but far ahead explosions of yellows, oranges and reds beckoned. Above them, azure so brilliant it made her heart ache. Below, clouds overlaying more clouds. Bettina could feel a furious desire forming inside: now that she’d seen it, she never wanted to leave this place of beauty and peace.

But that was when Zarentil’s flight—because she was flying, she remembered with a start—immediately angled down, plunging them into ever-increasing gloom. Bettina quickly felt choked off from the light and beauty and so claustrophobic it was hard to breathe. The peace that had enveloped her was soon replaced by clawing fear.

Further and further they plummeted. The darkness of the clouds now spirited away the joy and comfort she’d experienced just moments earlier.