know Kyrie. He's there."
If he's alive, Terra thought, but said nothing. Memoria believed. Let her cling to hope while she can. Hope might be all we've got.
"Let's fly," Memoria said. "I remember the way. Follow m—"
Before she could finish her sentence, a distant shriek rose. Terra cursed. A dozen flying beasts, the size of specks from here, disengaged from the army and came flying toward them.
"They saw us," he said. "Damn it. Let's fly!"
He shifted into a dragon, roared fire, and soared. Memoria flew beside him, snow flurrying around her green scales. They flew west, the clouds streaming around them, the snow slapping their faces. The mountaintops rose around them. When Terra looked over his shoulder, he saw his pursuers gaining on them.
"Those things are fast," he said.
"So are we. Fly, Terra!"
He narrowed his body, flapped his wings mightily, and shot forward through the wind and snow. He growled and fire filled his mouth. He looked behind him again and cursed.
"Damn it! They're gaining on us. What are they?"
Jaw clenched, Memoria looked over her shoulder, and her eyes narrowed.
"They look... they look like dragons," she said.
Terra shook his head. "No. Not dragons. But whatever they are, there are six of them, and two of us. Fly higher. We'll lose them in the clouds."
They soared and crashed into the snow clouds. Wind, ice, and snow stung Terra's eyes. He lowered his head and narrowed his eyes to slits, pushing himself forward. He couldn't see ten feet around him.
"Memoria, are you with me?" he shouted.
Her voice came from the clouds to his left. "Right beside you. Fly against the wind; it'll take us to the ruins of the palace."
And maybe slow down those creatures following us, he thought. He kept flying, driving through the clouds, and heard the screeches behind him. They were closer.
"They're fast bastards," he said.
Green scales flashed beside him between strands of clouds. "What the stars are those things? They were leagues away only moments ago."
Terra grunted. "Friends of Dies Irae."
The siblings kept flying, driving through the storm until the clouds parted. They found themselves over valleys of toppled ruins and fallen trees. Marble columns, each a hundred feet long, lay fallen like so many sticks below them. Snow dappled the ruins like patches of leprosy. The cries sounded again behind them, like the sound of butchered elephant seals. When Terra turned his head, he saw the creatures emerge from the clouds, only five hundred yards away.
"Bloody stars," he muttered. Beside him, Memoria gasped.
They were dragons, or at least, shaped as such. They were sewn together from the dead. Men's bodies, trussed up like hams, formed their necks. Their wings seemed made of human bones and skin. Their tails, their bodies, their limbs, their heads; all were patched from body parts, sewn together, rotting and wormy. They opened their maws and squealed.
Mimic dragons. Lovely.
He felt the Animating Stones; their curse slammed against him, tugging at his magic. Memoria grimaced; she felt it too.
Around their necks, Adoria's Hands opened.
The mimic dragons shrieked and flew at them, claws extended.
Terra and Memoria blew their fire.
The streams of flame roared, crackled, and hit two mimic dragons. They screamed and burned, their skin peeling, their flesh blistering. The four others flew around them, lightning fast, and blazed toward Terra and Memoria.
Terra had no time to muster more fire. The things moved so fast, he could barely see them. Two crashed into him, their claws—they seemed made of sharpened femurs—lashing at him.
Those claws scratched his side. He growled and bit. His teeth sank into soft, rotten flesh. It tore free easily, filling his mouth with juices and dead flies. The taste made him gag. He spat and clawed, hitting the beast's head.
It growled and bit, and its teeth broke several of Terra's scales. Roaring, Terra flapped his wings, kicked, and pushed himself back. He swiped his tail, hit the creature's head, and blew fire.
The mimic dragon burned. Its skin peeled back as it screamed. Its stitches melted. The bodies composing it came loose and began falling from the sky—men, women, children, pale and rubbery.
"Terra!" his sister cried.
He growled and flew toward her. Three mimic dragons surrounded her, scratching. Terra roasted one and swung his tail at another. Before it could recover, he swiped his claws, bit, and tore its head off. Memoria burned the last mimic dragon, and it fell to the ruins below, coming apart into two dozen bodies.
"That was easy," Terra muttered, rubbing a wound at his side.
Memoria growled. "I hear more."
Terra heard