The wind swept his white hair to the side. His muscles ached, struggling to hold him in place.
'Don't look down,' he repeated in his head. In theory, even if he fell he was going to be fine—he was tied to the other Chosen, and if that failed, he could call forth Cinder. But he didn't want to test if the beast would be able to act fast enough to break his fall.
Extending his hand forward, he took a firm hold of an edge. His eyes widened as the weight of his body suddenly increased severalfold.
A Chosen had slipped and fallen. The rope held, distributing the weight equally around the others.
'Shit.' Cursing bitterly, Azrael threw a look down. This was one of the Chosen whose names he hadn't even bothered to remember. They hadn't managed to display even the smallest amount of competency to catch his attention.
Azrael simply assumed that the reason Seraphina had taken them on board was so that should the worst happen, she could use them as live bait in order to escape.
