“My Father, and my Father's Fathers, I see you,” Ghosha the Water's Whip was murmuring, fully half of her body seared and dead, plasma-burned flesh sloughing off of her body as she lay, staring up at the stars and the moon, her one remaining eye glassy and shining.
“He sees you, he knows you,” Rainbowfish said.
They were on the hull of the Sovereign Melody. Warriors all around them were landing on the starship, trying to burrow their way inside. Destroying the ship would require a raid into the engine room, to overload the engine itself so that it would explode. That, or take out the ship's primary thrusters.
A few of the Warriors were attempting to do this. He could see Fractal bending her gravitational will against them, the massive cones of steel shaking and shuddering. But a warbird of the Sovereign Melody's size was designed to withstand the tug of singularities, the overwhelming, infinite pull of black holes and other stellar entities.
“I see them, and I forgive them,” Ghosha coughed, and her voice was becoming a bare whisper as she made her last prayers, “For the world they have given us.”
“For the world we give our children,” Rainbowfish said.
“For the world our children give theirs,” Ghosha said.
Another spluttering cough.
And then she was still.
Rainbowfish closed her single, remaining eye. The pain and the shock had disappeared on her face. Good.
He stood up. There was no time to move her body elsewhere. Plasma flew all around him. Anti-air turrets fired into the crowded night, a few Pagan Chorus guildfolk were jumping onto the hull, firing off at those who were descending down.
Rainbowfish looked at a squadron of them.
And charged.
The squad turned, and opened fire.
He expelled one of his scales.
Dodged past a few bolts that would have shorn off his head. The scale disappeared in a glitter of light. A few more started glowing brighter as he brought up a fist.
The first strike broke through armor. Broke through skin, and bone, and muscle. The expending of his hard-won scales empowered Rainbowfish, made him able to do the impossible, increased his strength and durability.
He picked up the Pagan Chorus, green blood splattering his entire body from his gaping wound, and threw him into his compatriots.
The next few moments were a blur of action and the expending of scales. Rainbowfish was a blur, moving from one Pagan Chorus to the next, slashing with curled hands, ramming his fist into throats, wrestling them to the ground, shattering skulls and breaking spines.
The last of the Pagan Chorus was a large alien. Rainbowfish expended two scales, empowering his punch as he ducked down beneath the alien's sweeping haymaker, his fist cracking against the alien's knee, dislocating it. Two more quick punches to the alien's head to discombobulate, and then the metahuman picked him up, carried him to the Melody's edge.
They were on the starboard wing. The world was a blur below them, and the wind up here was so strong that he had to work to make sure he didn't slip.
With a grunt, he lifted the Pagan Chorus over his head, then pitched him over the side.
The Pagan Chorus fell into the night, tumbling and flailing, a blot of ever-small white that eventually disappeared somewhere in the trees.
Rainbowfish watched him fall.
Then turned around.
“Warriors, to me!” he roared, and though his voice was stolen by the wind, the other metahumans noted that Ranbowfish's left arm was glowing so brightly it almost dwarfed the light of the moon.
They knew his powers.
And they knew what he was going to do to get them inside.
He leaped into the air, left arm shining as a torch.
And he slammed a fist into the hull, near where the wing connected to the main living spaces.
The entire left side of the Sovereign Melody shuddered. Half of the wing crumpled as though it were aluminum, cracks breaking out across its surface. Portions of the ship exploded internally. Rainbowfih stumbled back, his left arm smoking, his head spinning-
Riah Truegale caught him.
“Excellent work, son,” he said, “Cutting Edge, finish the word.”
Cutting Edge nodded, her blade flashing out of its sheath. Her power was that she was able to cut through any metal, so long as she wielded a sword. She burrowed the blade into the steel of the warbird, down to its hilt, and began dragging it across, opening up a larger gap for Warriors to get inside.
“You up for more?” Riah Truegale asked.
Rainbowfish's head spun. He had not used so many scales for a very long time. His left arm was fully bare now, pockmarked with red imprints from where the oldest scales had been.
But he pushed himself up.
“I'm fit,” he said, “Just... don't expect me to do anything so crazy.”
“Alright,” Riah Truegale said.
They watched as other metahumans were landing. Pigmalion. Lute and Saren Wise, the latter flicking a finger, two orbs floating around her head like electrons.
“Okay, people,” Riah Truegale said, “Our mission is a very simple one.”
He pointed at the gap that Cutting Edge had made. Already they could see Pagan Chorus, crewmembers and soldiers preparing for the incursion.
The holes on Riah Truegale's arms and legs started sucking in air.
“I'll take point!” he said, “Pigmalion, back me up!”
Two of the pig-headed metahuman's constructs attended him, angels both. The marble beings leaped down with Riah Truegale into the ship, into a small bedroom. A few Federation soldiers were on the other side, and the room was alight with red and green plasma as they opened fire-
The angels took the brunt of the assault, while Riah Truegale whipped his hands forward, unleashing a gale of razor wind that cut into the Federation soldiers. They crumpled, one decapitated, the other letting out gasps of pain at their sudden disarming.
One of the angels walked over to this soldier, and stomped until his head was mush.
They were in one of the barracks onboard. Bunk beds to either side, and they could hear more movement coming from the door on the other side of the long room. Riah Truegale's comrades jumped in behind him.
“To the engine room,” Riah Truegale said, “Let's end this.”
***
Truthspeaker's voice rang on the bridge.
The entire crew looked up.
“They're onboard,” Valm said.
“I'm reading incursions on decks eight, nine, and five,” the sensors officer said, “Dozens of metahumans, sir.”
“They'll be heading towards the engine room,” Valm muttered, “Old Scar. Take a team down there, protect the engines at all costs.”
“Yes, guildmaster,” Old Scar moved off at once, unlooping his raysword. A vile grin painted on his face.
“Truthspeaker,” Valm said, “Instruct all non-combat personnel to take cover. Get Erak Yawat to the shelter. Get all autonomous weapons online, and start bombarding the plane below. Natives be damned, we need to get this over with.”
Truthspeaker sang, but Valm shook his head.
“I am aware,” he said, “But none of our teams have reported back from the ground. We must assume the mission to retrieve native inhabitants has been a failure, and this is now a life-or-death scenario.”
He pressed a few keys.
“I choose life,” he said.
Glassmakers spurred to life. The entire ship shuddered as ten of the Sovereign Melody's long, proboscis-like cannons revealed themselves on the bottom of the warbird's hull. They pointed at the ground.
And started to churn to life. A deep, thrumming sound vibrated the air around the ship.
***
Becenti looked up as he heard that all-too-familiar sound. The hollow warble of a glassmaker powering up. He looked at those with him. Hadawa'ko and a few of his warriors. Uni and Wavemaker.
“Run,” he said, “Run!”
They started sprinting. High above, the night became day, as the glassmakers powered up. They would release into the center of the forest, obliterating everything in their path. All Becenti could do was run-
One of the glassmakers shuddered, and the power welling up within it went out.
And then, it bent. Twisted.
Becenti made out an orange silhouette dancing amongst the forest of rods.
***
The thrusters were made of stern stuff. Designed to not splinter apart in the event of the Sovereign Melody having to move towards the edge of a black hole. Something was inlaid into the metal, some unknown Fedtek that Fractal could not identify, that made it harder for her powers to manipulate. She squeezed at them. Tore at them. Tried to change the gravitational pull around them to go down.
But to no avail.
But glassmakers were fragile things. Careful tubes designed to fire pure power from the ship's warp field, and this made the ship a vulnerable thing. Their purpose in warfare was for use in bombarding a planet, or a plane, from relative safety. They had no defenses of their own, were not made of the same stuff as the rest of the ship, for the metals and glasswork required in making them was a difficult process, lest the warp recoil back on the ship and destroy it completely.
As such, they broke when Fractal twisted. When her aura of gravitational energy washed over them like waves upon the shore. Some imploded. Others gnarled and cracked like broken limbs, dislocating and shattering.
The energy within them extinguished, as was designed. A glassmaker exploding next to a ship would destroy it completely. And so they had been built to only fire their discharge at the last possible moment.
But, at least, she had rendered the glassmakers useless.
Plasma flew around her. A couple of Federation fighters were dipping down beneath the ship to match her. But they made the mistake of falling too close to her gravitational field as she fell across the air. With a flick of the finger, she broke their cockpits, or crumpled their wings, and they sank like stones to the ground below.
She needed to be careful.
Anti-air plasma bolts were zipping past her head. She contorted the gravity around her, making them arc away from her, but they were much like Cobalt Joe's lightning. They were fast, and if she was not careful, one could get to her.
Powerful as she was, she was still flesh and blood. A bolt in the wrong place would kill her.
The Sovereign Melody started moving off, trying to get away from her. And though she could not stop it with her power alone, she could still rush after it, keep pace with it, like a wolf stalking a dying elk.
For, indeed, the Sovereign Melody was dying.
Pagan Chorus was just in denial, as all dying things are.
***
Hallway by hallway. Room by room.
That was how it was with starship incursions. Riah Truegale's team moved with a fluid grace, and two years' worth of training, as working as a team, had paid off, for they rushed into each room as one great force. Riah Truegale's wind whipped up and slammed Pagan Chorus crewmembers into walls, or cut into their flesh. Saren Wise's orbs fired off, at some points taking up rooms entirely, bouncing on the walls and the ceiling and the floor and burning through anyone unlucky enough to be caught in their paths. Cutting Edge's blade was a blur as she cut through Federation soldiers, or into the floor so they could move further down into the belly of the Sovereign Melody. Pigmalion's angels took up posts as moveable barricades, blocking plasma fire with marbled wings, returning the favor with sheer physical might, charging into Pagan Chorus and breaking them apart with punches, kicks, stomps, and broken necks.
Hallway by hallway, and then down ramps and staircases. They did not take the lifts, for the ship would all too easily shut them in there, perhaps remove the air from the small compartment. There was an onboard AI that was half-singing, half-screaming, throughout the ship, revealing their location as they moved.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
On occasion they could see other metahumans who had made it inside. Other incursion teams. But they would split off, for other actions on the ship, for while the engine was the core of the vessel, there were other systems that could be shut down to aid them. The entire warbird rumbled as its primary weapons banks were destroyed. They passed one of the hangars, with Durian Sea half in the doorway, flooding the entire cavernous room with water, drowning crew and drones alike.
“A few more floors,” Riah Truegale said, “Then it's the hangar.”
Rainbowfish nodded. As did the others.
The lights below had gone completely out. Lute strummed a few notes on her titular instrument, before tossing it into the air. Her power was the ability to create and control stringed instruments, and she had learned on Doremi how to use the magic imbued within music, within vibration and sound, to create light. The lute hung in the air as a floating lantern, and she produced another one from thin air, the strings disconnecting from the neck and snarling in the air like eleven ornery snakes.
They took this path carefully, an angel in front and an angel behind. Riah Truegale's holes puckered and swallowed down air. Rainbowfish inspected the new scales on his arms, won for each little skirmish that he won. Cutting Edge checked over her blade, wiped it clean of myriad blood.
Another ramp down. This one curved-
There was a man at the bottom.
He held a rocket launcher.
He fired.
A chung sound. A whistling in the air. A heap of caustic plasma, held within an iron ball.
The explosion shattered the angel guarding them. Riah Truegale let out a roar of agony. As did Lute and Cutting Edge.
Saren Wise shot off her two orbs through the plasma smoke. She could see through them, a second pair of burning eyes that bounced off of the opposite walls. Yes, there was the engine room. But an older man was guarding it, reloading the rocket launcher. He was armed to the teeth, an ugly lump bristling with plasma weaponry and rayswords and knives.
He casually moved his head, letting an orb rush past. It bounced off of an invisible wall, a rayshield, just as it was about to go into the engine room.
As it returned back to her, she saw him taking out-
“Grenade!” she screamed.
They rushed back upstairs. An oblong sphere peppered against the wall, started to glow, and exploded.
Riah Truegale's leg had been blasted off. He had only escaped the grenade with an exhalation of wind. Now he took point, spinning back around, his face one of calm fury. He ignored the pain as he puffed back down the ramp, faster than the old Federation soldier could anticipate.
He unleashed razor gales.
The man had anticipated this. Or rather, something similar, for he had already rolled out of the way as Riah Truegale was coming down the stairs.
Prediction and a rocket launcher, the two good friends of one who wished to kill a metahuman.
The ball of iron and plasma thundered into Riah Truegale's torso, somewhere between his chest and his stomach, and exploded.
A shower of gore and neon plasma.
The other Warriors rushed down as one. Cutting Edge's blade flashed at the old man, who dodged back, dropping his rocket launcher and drawing his raysword.
At the same moment, Lute roared, and her instrument's strings whipped at the old man, tearing into the skin on his arm.
He ignored the pain, slashing at Cutting Edge with his raysword.
Cutting Edge's sword met his. And cut through it, running a deep slash against the man's chest.
He jumped back, pulling out a pistol and opening fire. Cutting Edge was forced to retreat back, using her blade to deflect each shot, and at the same moment the man spun, tossing a grenade-
It bounced off the wall, glowed, as slime ejected from its capsule. It stuck to the side of Lute's temple. For a split-second, the metahuman brought up delicate fingers to prod it, her eyes widening in realization-
And then her head exploded.
One of the angels rushed forward. Pigmalion was back on the ramp, frantically pulling out marble, squeezing it in his porcine hands. Rainbowfish was rushing at the man as well, but he had to leap back as the man pulled out a heavy rifle and opened fire, the Warrior expelling scales to avoid each and every shot, the room filled with the horrid thudthudthud of plasma fire.
The man had retreated down the hall, the rayshielded engine room at his back. He pulled out a smaller pistol, a heavy capsule on its barrel, and he fired it off right as the angel rushed at him, bursting at its shoulder and breaking away an arm, cracks appearing in the right of its body.
His raysword flashed, cutting the angel in two. It stopped moving, bereft of Pigmalion's power of animation.
Saren Wise's orbs bounced forward. The old man dodged past them, rushing forward, throwing a third grenade towards the ramp that led into the other room. His aiming was impeccable, and Pigmalion leaped up, letting out a squeal of shock, his malformed marble creation jumped in the grenade's path.
Rainbowfish and Cutting Edge rushed the man, who drew a second raysword in response. He slashed viciously at the two, and for a few frantic moments the three of them were a blur of motion, a trio of killers. Cutting Edge's blade cut through the rayswords easily, but the rayswords reformed almost instantaneously.
The old man was more than a match for Rainbowfish, who had to constantly expel his scales to avoid lethal slashes, cuts, stabs that almost went too deep. He was bleeding within but a few moments, and after another round of jabs and parried punches, he had to retreat back.
He stumbled back as Saren Wise's orbs returned back to her, ready for another round. The two watched the old man and Cutting Edge dance around each other, neither able to parry, only able to slash and dodge.
She knicked his torso, cutting through his combat armor. Gave him another ragged slash to his side, and for a moment he stumbled back, for a moment the game seemed up.
But Cutting Edge was, if anything, overconfident. Her skill with the blade was near-unmatched. Her metahuman ability made her a masterful duelist, indeed. The walls of the hallway were rent and slashed, cut like butter, all of it from her.
But the old man had been trained, and trained well.
And he was not overconfident. Quite on the contrary, he knew all too well that death was on the line. Adrenaline pumped into his system, both natural and externally injected by systems in his armor, and he rose. He dodged the first slash, then the second, before he found his opening, thrusting his raysword into Cutting Edge's leg. She let out a gasp, started to crumple, her head falling to chest height-
With the second raysword, the old man decapitated her. Cutting Edge's head bounced off the wall for a moment, before rolling back down towards Rainbowfish and Saren Wise. They both looked aghast.
The Federation soldier spat.
“You face Old Scar, Mutts,” he said, “You find me no easy prize, eh?”
Above, they heard plasma fire. Pigmalion must have gotten caught up by another Pagan Chorus repelling crew. Saren Wise and Rainbowfish exchanged looks.
Then Rainbowfish stepped forward, raising up his fists. Old Scar smiled.
They both knew the game. The old man was Rainbowfish's superior in a fight. But the metahuman's ability allowed him to expend the scales to avoid near-death blows, or to power up his strikes. It was a duel of endurance.
Helped by Saren Wise, whose orbs shot off at the Pagan Chorus guildmember.
Old Scar deflected the first, dodged the second, slashing at Rainbowfish, who danced back a few steps, before he rushed forward and punched at the baseline. The two were a flurry of motion for a second, before breaking off.
He had gotten a few good shots in. Expended a few of his scales and perhaps broken a few of Old Scar's ribs. The man stumbled back, wheezing heavily. His smile was red. His eyes were full of hate.
Rainbowfish rushed forward again, getting inside of Old Scar's guard, expelling two scales, one to strengthen his grip as he squeezed Old Scar's wrist, the old man letting out a gargle of pain as he was forced to drop a raysword. The other to slam an elbow into the baseline's face, a harsh crack that sent him reeling back.
A third, to rocket a fist into Old Scar's stomach.
A fourth, to-
Old Scar's reeling head whipped forward suddenly, and he cracked his forehead against Rainbowfish's. Nimble fingers flicked on his remaining raysword, shortening the blade, and he rammed it into the Warrior's stomach.
Rainbowfish sputtered.
Saren Wise sent out the orbs again. But this time they didn't even come close to Old Scar, who was easing Rainbowfish to the ground.
The orbs slammed against the rayshield.
And the old man's eyes widened in shock.
The rayshield cracked.
For Saren Wise had never been aiming for the Pagan Chorus at all.
Old Scar rose-
As did Rainbowfish, who punched vaguely at the old man.
And expended six scales.
His errant, lazy blow sent Old Scar rocketing up towards the ceiling. The Pagan Chorus cracked against it, held there for a moment, before he dropped, like a stone, to the ground, landing with a crunch beside Rainbowfish.
Saren Wise's orbs were flying around the engineering bay. Striking crewmembers, soldiers, consoles and rayshields. A panel on one of the walls burst, showering the place with sparks.
Rainbowfish moved forward, a hand clutching his stomach. He could see it. The warp engine, and in his eyes it was beautiful. Despite its aping of the multiverse, its false rainbows and miasmas, it was still something worth judging, and finding wonderful.
Bodies littered the floor. Old Scar was fast, perhaps, able to dodge and weave and counter, but this engineering crew was not. Aliens, all of them, green skinned and red and one a shade of purple, as myriad as metahumanity itself.
Only a few scales left. Rainbowfish was covered in wounds and bruises. The wound in his stomach bled freely. In truth, he was not sure why he was still alive, or how he could keep moving. Perhaps it was adrenaline. Perhaps it was fear.
Perhaps, as he saw in his mind's eye Lunus Oculus and the others, it was hope. Or something like it, at least.
He had never been good at feeling so, and it made his last moments confused.
Confused, but hopeful.
As he leaped into the air, the last of his scales expending.
As Saren Wise, her eyes widening, turned and began to run.
As Old Scar, too, saw what the madman was doing, and took off behind her.
The two of them made it up to the second floor when Rainbowfish's fist slammed against the clear tube holding the warp in. Under normal circumstances, such a blow, even as strong as Rainbowfish's would not have cracked the barrier. It would have held, for it was designed to hold forces much stronger than the metahuman's.
But the warp is like Imagination.
And Imagination recognizes its children.
The glass-like pillar cracked. Warp began to bleed out like iridescent blood.
And then the engine exploded.
***
An explosion aboard a warbird as well designed as the Sovereign Melody is contained. Parts of the ship are more well-shielded than others, the metal used is more durable, even against Imagination itself. The center of the warbird erupted in a pillar of light, as though the Sovereign Melody was pierced by a divine nail. And yet it was by design that the ship did not completely shatter, did not conflagrate in a ball of plasma and shrapnel.
It even descended as one piece. The center had been almost completely removed by the explosion, and it went down as a solid bulk of metal and fire. Flying metahumans moved out of the way, though a few were caught in the Sovereign Melody's final arc.
And, within, the ship was in full panic.
Valm's deep voice sounded like a horn as he roared out orders. As Truthspeaker screamed alerts. The warbird's crew were moving off towards escape pods, going to the parts of the ship designed to splinter and reveal capsules of steel, to fly away even as the Sovereign Melody broke apart around them.
For, much like a tower, the Sovereign Melody was designed to collapse. To die.
“Guildmaster,” one of the attendants beside Valm said, “It is time.”
The Prime Voice sneered. Recalled Truthspeaker to the implant in his mind, and then allowed the attendant to guide him towards one of the escape pods. A row of them revealed themselves on the hallway leading to the bridge. Valm clambered in one, along with a few of the bridge crew.
They launched with a cathunk. Felt themselves freed from the world, spinning and whirling, before they righted themselves and flew off.
A few of the escape pods were captured by the metahumans. Through one of the viewscreens, Valm watched as a Mutt in orange flew around, stopping the capsules in midair, bringing them down to the earth.
But he ignored this, as he prepared for the escape pod's landing on the earth.
It was well-designed, for it was made for the Prime Voice to be comfortable, as he escaped oblivion.
It landed softly. Thrusters had slowed its descent, little by little, bit by bit, to the ground. What would have been a tremendous crash had turned into a puff of dust in a field with towering dandelions.
Valm stepped out.
And watched the Sovereign Melody die.
It was breaking apart as it fell towards the forest below. The wings were chipping away, scale by scale, pylon by pylon. The starboard curve split from the rest of the wreckage. The thrusters, solid constructs of the most powerful metals, fell as a single package, only splintering from the rest of the Sovereign Melody at the final moment. Like a diver into a shallow pool, the Sovereign Melody struck the ground headfirst, its head twisting sideways, crumpling in on itself.
The rest of the body fell, crashed to the earth, set the forests ablaze and sent people and animals scattering. The earth churned, was thrown upwards in showers. The ground seized and shook.
The shockwave of the crash reverberated across the plane. New Ludaya or Ganá:yeht, it mattered little, as both worlds were shaken and trees were toppled, as children covered their ears as the world vibrated and cracked.
***
Far away, yet still in the woods, Kathen fell to his knees.
He let out a ragged roar, as voices screamed in his head.
He heard Old Scar. Somehow his old bastard of a mentor had survived, had managed to get into an escape pod, though half of his body was seared and he was screaming.
He heard Rhunea. She was crying out, too, at the sight of the downed warbird, and she was screaming.
He heard the soldiers with him, beside him and in his mind, screaming.
The remainder of Pagan Chorus, trapped in their pods, or climbing out of the wreckage of the ship, alive save to its expert design, but they were screaming.
Perhaps, not with their voices, but in their minds. Panic and fear washed over Kathen Aru in waves, and he found his mouth tasting of bile. He shook as he tried to pull himself to his feet, to recollect himself. There was still a battle on, still Pagan Chorus and metahumans in the forest.
And then, he retched.
He had done this.
The destruction of his guildmaster's ship. Valm was alive, he could sense the Prime Voice's presence.
(He was screaming.)
But had he not freed the natives...
Had he not warned them...
And now, thousands of voices cried out in his mind. Some went silent, as injuries overtook them or as metahumans tracked them down. Thousands of voices, some Kathen was close to, but the vast majority he had only viewed as passing faces. As figures around him, and not beside him.
Thousands of voices, and they screamed as if they were his own.
What a poor guildmember he had been.
He…
He stood up. Looked at the remains of his squad, his mouth still tasting of vomit. Three people. The rest, killed during the fighting. They would need to leave the bodies behind. But…
They needed to leave.
Kathen swallowed.
“Tridian,” he said, pointing to the tallest of them, “Get Rhunea. Get Dicaeopolis. They're still alive.”
“Sir,” Tridian said, “With all due respect-”
“They're alive,” Kathen said, “I know it. I can-”
Hear them?
Was he a madman?
“I just know it,” Kathen said, “We need to get the survivors together, before we're picked off. Follow my orders.”
“Yes, Sairad Ghedir.”
He winced at the name.
They took cover in a copse of trees. Tridian opened up a communicator, started getting in contact with their guildmates. Points of light in the dark forest, though there was still heavy battle. Pagan Chorus holdouts. The natives of the plane clashing with metahumans.
He was aware, distantly, of Valm moving into the forest, for fear bred anger and rash action, and Valm was absolutely livid.
He had to...
Had to make sure his guildmaster, his father by guild, was safe.
“Tridian, stay here,” Kathen said, “Get the others together. Have Rhunea start teleporting people to this location. Start setting up defensive positions.”
“Where are you going, Sairad Ghedir?” Tridian asked.
“I'm going to make sure the Prime Voice is safe,” Kathen said, “Keep safe. We'll get through this.”
Debris was still falling from the sky. Part of the Sovereign Melody exploded, one of her weapons ports had malfunctioned, clogged up like an artery, and burst. As Kathen ran through the forest, it rained sparks of plasma. Trees caught on fire. Smoke choked the night, blotted out the stars. There were parts of the wood that Kathen was not able to run into, for walls of flame closed him off. And on the other side he could hear screams.
Even the forest was screaming, and he could hear it.
Gods, he was running through Hell.