"Focus on the glider." I told her, hoping my voice sounded steadier than it felt. "Think about your grip, the ache in your arms, the texture of the wood. Trace sensations, not feelings."
It was advice I needed myself. My shoulders burned from supporting my weight, my hands growing slick with sweat against the wooden bar. The harness cut into my thighs where it distributed my weight. I focused on these discomforts, trying to ground myself in physical reality rather than on emotional response.
Ahead, Gale’s body shuddered with the strain of holding his breath and manipulating the air currents. His face had turned an alarming shade of purple red, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel storing nuts for winter. Despite his claims of practice, his limit was approaching, that much was obvious.
A stuttering ripple passed through our wind highway, the smooth current becoming montarily turbulent. Our glider dropped several feet before the flow stabilized again. A warning of what was to co.
"He can’t hold it much longer." I said.
"How far is Argent?" Kira asked, squinting toward the barrier.
"Too far." I replied, the cold calculation unavoidable. "At least a mile."
The landscape below had changed as we flew. The tal jungle of the ruined outpost had given way to more open terrain, a wasteland of broken rock and sparse, alien vegetation. But this seemingly barren landscape was deceptive. As we sailed over it, I could make out features that weren’t visible from the ground, a vast network of canyons and crevices cutting through the earth like veins in a diseased body.
And in every shadow, every crack, every hidden place. Movent. Shifting in the darkness. Corruptors weren’t just following us, they were everywhere, a hidden infestation revealed only by our aerial perspective.
The wind faltered again, a longer disruption this ti. Our glider dropped perhaps twenty feet before Gale managed to reassert the current. A chorus of frightened sounds erupted from the others, quickly stifled as they rembered the danger of emotional broadcasting.
But it was too late. The damage was done. The Corruptors below surged forward with renewed purpose, converging on our projected landing zone with precision.
I shifted my gaze back to Gale, watching as his chest began to spasm. His face had progressed from red to a dusky blue. He couldn’t last much longer. Maybe seconds.
With a sudden, violent convulsion, Gale finally broke. His mouth opened in a desperate gasp, his body curling inward as his lungs demanded oxygen. The tailwind, our lifeline, our highway through the sky, vanished between one heartbeat and the next.
The supporting current vanished. Our gliders, forgot how to fly. What followed wasn’t a controlled descent, it was a violent surrender to gravity.
Eight fras of wood and patchwork fabric beca dead weight. We didn’t glide down, we were thrown. The ground didn’t wait below, it rushed up to et us, an unforgiving end to our brief, borrowed sky.
The world tilted crazily as our glider spiraled, no longer stabilized by Gale’s crafted wind. Kira scread, the sound torn away by the rushing air. I gripped the wooden bar with desperate strength, trying to keep us from flipping completely over.
"Lean right!" I shouted, throwing my weight to correct our spin. Kira followed my lead, and for a precious mont, we stabilized, still falling but at least in a controlled descent rather than a wild tumble.
As we fell, I had a perfect, crystalline view of the landscape surrounding Argent. The barrier that had seed so close from the air now appeared impossibly distant. Between us and it stretched a gauntlet of broken terrain, and every fold in the earth, every shadow, every crack in the wasteland’s surface concealed Corruptors.
They were moving toward the barrier, I realized with dawning horror. Not just tracking us, but flowing in dark rivers toward Argent itself. The closer we got to the Citadel, the more densely packed they beca, as if drawn to the energy of the barrier like moths to fla.
"Kira." I managed, my voice strained by terror and the rushing wind. "Look at the barrier."
Her eyes followed mine, widening as she took in what I had seen. The Corruptors weren’t randomly distributed throughout the wasteland, they were concentrated around Argent, forming a living moat of silver distortion that we would sohow need to cross.
"Even if we survive the landing." she shouted, "How do we reach the barrier?"
"I don’t know." I admitted.
I thought of the canteen I’d taken from Darien, now secured at Kira’s hip. Whatever secret the Zeros were hiding about our return to Argent, I was increasingly certain we’d need it.
The ground expanded beneath us, details resolving with alarming clarity. I could make out individual rocks, patches of strange vegetation, the uneven terrain that would either kill us outright or rely break our bodies on impact.
I caught Kira’s eye one last ti, saw my own dread mirrored in her face. In that mont, the brief freedom of flight, the wonder of seeing the world from above, seed like a cruel joke, a montary taste of freedom before the wasteland reclaid us.
Around us, the other gliders were scattered across the sky, each in its own desperate descent. So had maintained better control than others. Darien and Finn, unsurprisingly, were managing an almost graceful glide. Others were tumbling wildly, their fras breaking apart mid air.
Just as the ground lunged to et us, a new current ripped through the air. Gale. His face was a mask of pure strain, his body trembling with the effort of pushing his ability past its limit. He wasn’t trying to lift us anymore, that was impossible. He just wanted to soften the landing.
The effect was imdiate but subtle. Our plumt didn’t stop. It slowed. The air around our glider thickened, turning into a turbulent but tangible cushion. It was the difference between shattering on stone and rely breaking on hard packed earth. A last act of grace from a man whose power was spent.
That was nice of him, I thought, a strange, detached admiration cutting through the terror. A final bit of flair before we all beca Corruptor food.
The delay was a heartbeat, maybe two. Just enough ti for the world to snap back into horrible focus. I saw the other gliders hit the ground. A wing snapped. A tangle of limbs. A cloud of dust.
Then our stolen ti ran out. Our glider’s left wingtip clipped a jagged outcrop of rusted tal.
"Brace!" I shouted, tucking my knees up and preparing for impact.
Then there was no more ti to observe. And all I could do was close my eyes and hope that whatever ca next wouldn’t hurt for long.
The world inverted.
"Kira—!"
The impact wasn’t a single blow. It was a series of them. A violent, rolling, deafening collision with the earth that stole the light, the air, and every thought except one.
’This is it’.
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