225 On the Shoulders of Giants

Once they climbed all the way to the broad shoulders of the statue and found a suitable place to make camp, everyone looked down without having to say anything.

Far below them, the giant nest was still aflame. The cables that constituted it were melting and turning into rivers of liquid metal, flowing down from the edges into the vast abyss of the canyon.

The turbulent black waters were rising from below to meet them. When the two streams met — one lightless, the other incandescent — billowing columns of hot vapor shot into the air. For a few moments, it seemed as though light and darkness were on equal footing.

But then the cursed sea rose from the depths of the canyon in a surge and washed the brightness of melting iron away. The flood of blackness crashed into the burning nest, dousing it.

A minute or so later, the white flames were gone. The surface of the dark sea continued to rise, as though nothing had ever happened.

Sunny sighed and turned to Nephis.