Page 60

60

CHARLIE

B lack night smothered the world as I trudged through the fallen city, calling her name.

“Essa! Essaphine!”

The only response was a heckle of crows as they picked at the body of a fallen dragon.

The devastation was unbelievable. What a few hours ago had been a wonder of the world been reduced to a hellscape of rubble. The only light came from fires that still burned, consuming the few remaining buildings. The palace’s opaline towers had fallen. The walls lay in ruin. Bodies lay strewn in the dirt, twisted and torn. Nowhere did I see any living thing, not even a golena. The only movement was the curling and trembling of fire, the rush of smoke and the occasional flutter of a tattered banner or a dead man’s cloak.

Still I trudged on, weary as a sleepwalker, calling her name.

“Essaphine! Essa! ”

God only knew how I’d managed to coax my damaged plane back to shore and find a level spot to put down before my fuel ran out—in a meadow I estimated to be six or seven miles north of the city. I’d hiked through the night to get here. My feet ached. My hands trembled. My stomach groaned with hunger. My eyes stung with spilled tears and smoke. But a fire burning within me drove me on.

I had to see her. To hold her. To know she was okay. To tell her I was sorry. To tell her I loved her.

“Essaphine!” I screamed into the desolation, my hoarse voice choking off the end of her name as my desperation got the better of me.

Something moved in the smoke. Lacunae. Or golenae, maybe. I didn’t give a damn. I’d fight every one of them with my bare hands. I’d walk through this hellscape forever. And I’d never stop, never sleep, never rest until I found my Essa again.