The wind sliced Strax's face as his torn wings struggled to keep him aloft. It was no longer his dragon form that gave him strength; it was only his human body, sustained by the demonic energy that insisted on manifesting itself in the black, wounded wings pulsing on his back. Each beat was an effort, each breath sounded like embers burning inside his lungs.
He didn't know how long he had been flying. Hours? Days? The endless line of the ocean made him lose track. He only knew he couldn't stop. Not while they were somewhere. His wives. His partners. The ones who had been ripped from him by the fury of the storm.
Strax's red eyes scanned the horizon insistently. Every wave seemed to hide something. Every reflection of light on the water was a possible sign. But nothing. Just the sea. The silence. The void.
