The Hovercopter lifted off with sixteen human's aboard.
Solomon opened his eyes once more to see a familiar face smiling at him. One he thought he would have seen a lot more often than he had. The face smiled warmly as he regained conscientiousness. "My friend! You well? Head hurt, you fluid stopped." came the friendly boisterous voice. "Sykra?" whispered Solomon in reply. "Well, friend. You thinking not bad!" he let out a laugh, his thin features came into focus more and Solomon could see his eyes, still as dark and deep as the void of space. His hair, no longer tied tightly in a top knot, but in a complex braid that circled the right side of his scalp, making his hair seem shorter than usual. Sykra had removed his helmet once he realised who was aboard the hovercopter. His pale blue skin let a smile hang upon his lips before his eyes looked to the horizon and saw the forests burn. Countless plumes of smoke scattered the skyline, Solomon turned his head and could see where Forgod Fortress was, and could see the tail hull of The Evergreen protruding from the cloud of smoke spilling forth from the previously fortified building.
"Kyril..." he whispered, suppressing a tear.
"He's gone, honey." came a sweet voice, soft as silk over to Solomon's right. Lyra sat there, pale, dried dust and mud dirtied her face, small pale lined streaks made out where her tears had fallen and half cleaned their path. The hovercopter shuddered slightly with a sudden gust of wind, but the pilot soon steadied the vessel. Sykra squeezed Solomon's shoulder and gave him a grave look. The Gryph's usual happy jokey spirit had vanished and in its place sat a beaten and withered personality that accepted the dire probability of sudden death at any point.
Soon Solomon could sit up, the heavy ringing in his ears gave way to the whistle of the wind and buzz of the engines, he took Lyra in his arms to offer her relief, but it was he who needed the comfort. Eve, Kyril, Decius, Sandra and Lucius are gone. Taken in battle.
He soothed Lyra as she wept into his armoured shoulder, the tears landing on his armour and tore straight from the metal plate, sucked out of the open flanking doors by the vortex created by the streamline of the hovercraft. Sykra kept his eyes on the tree line below, watching the creatures below flee from the noise of the machine flying overhead, noticing that the Banshee infection had not effected them yet, the habitat showed no signs of the war and corruption that had spread over the planet.
Sykra looked ahead to the cockpit as a voice came through his headset from the pilot. He spoke in his native tongue, his tone rushed as he clambered to the front, leaving the humans in the rear, trying to catch a glance at what the two Gryph had turned their attention to.
Solomon took a moment to feel the wind blow through his hair, the cool breeze soothed his troubled mind, almost making him forget his losses of the day momentarily before the hovercopter shuddered as a violent force shoved the vessel up and down, hands gripped onto the overhead ropes that had lazily swung like nooses from the ceiling before they became filled with grasping hands and taught under the weight of the attaching bodies.
The hovercopter shuddered again, this time falling further before rising again, the groans from the cockpit showed unmistakable signs of the pilot struggling to maintain his altitude and control, and Solomon simply sat there, with his back to the rear armour plate of the hovercopter. He knew the fate of everybody inside was in one of the hands at work. The Pilot, or Fate. Either they would plummet or survive. He knew he had no control, so why worry? Why spend his possible last moments panicking when he can do nothing to alter the course? Lyra had grasped one of the hanging grips and shot Solomon a harsh look as he sat there, seemingly indifferent to the situation, she had become accustomed to the feeling of Solomon always in control, always taking action, always thinking of an escape route, always protecting. But now, now he just sat there, and shrugged when she shot him a quizzical look.
The copter fell lower, the pressure change in Solomon's ears made him wince as the pain surged itself into his skull. Tree's became closer, he could now distinguish where one branch ended and another began. 'Still too high to jump' he thought to himself as he glanced over the side, through the flank door. The hovercopter now was only a couple of meters above the green sea of leaf, occasionally a thud and scratch echoed through the armoured framework as it fought gravity.
Soon, Solomon saw the ever growing, familiar dirt of Merriden IV. Soon would be time to jump, with the distance closing, his brain leapt into action and he got to his feet. The sun was setting over the horizon and whilst gaining his location fully, he guessed where the protruding tail of The Evergreen should be through the smog that had engulfed the slowly failing hovercopter. Roughly five miles at his guess.
Solomon looked at Lyra, into her beautiful eyes that seemed to possess the ability to change with her mood, now, they seemed darker. Dark with despair, she silently pleaded for Solomon to fix the world and make everything alright again.
But he couldn't.
Merriden IV had succumbed to the infection.
Gryph forces had retreated or become destroyed.
Smoke filled the air, making it a thick choking fog.
How can he stand against such disease and disaster?