“This is not your final destination. Come with us.”
As the Pilgrims circled overhead, a huge number of the Oasis Silverwings gathered in the higher branches, peering up curiously, muttering amongst themselves. None dared go closer. Griffin hurriedly looked for Luna, but couldn’t find her anywhere in the crowd.
“Go away!” someone called out to the Pilgrims, and Griffin recognized the voice as Corona’s. “You’re not wanted here!”
From the trees, other bats started shouting now.
“You’re crazy!”
“Clear off!”
“We’re happy where we are!”
“Stop bothering us!”
“Go! Go! Go!”
It became a chant, a horrible din that sounded like the hoarse bark of ravens, trying to drown out the old Pilgrim. But Griffin thought there was more than just derision in their voices; there was an edge of desperation, too. Their hardened faces held a frightened intensity. Even as their shouts and cries echoed through the forest, somehow the aged Pilgrim’s voice could still be heard.
“We are no longer of the living!” she cried out as she flew. “You must accept that. You—are—all—dead!”
Griffin gasped, feeling a huge rush of surprise and relief. This Silverwing
knew!
How come she knew, and all the others didn’t?
“This is the Underworld,” the Pilgrim cried out. “Every one of you is dead.”
“I’m feeling fine, thanks very much!” a mocking voice cried from the trees. Harsh laughter echoed all round.
“We were not meant to stay here eternally,” the Pilgrim persisted, the power of her voice undiminished. “In our lifetimes we undertook many journeys. There is one last journey you must make.”
“You go on ahead!” someone else shouted.
“You all believe yourselves to be alive, but it is a delusion. Death has clouded your memories of your past life, but you must try hard to remember. Do not deny the truth. This is a dead place, but there is life to come. You need not stay here forever. We can help set you on your way, but the journey must be yours. You must travel to the Tree.”
The Tree? Griffin remembered the shock on Corona’s face when she’d mistakenly thought the Tree was his home. Where was this Tree, and what was so special—and terrifying—about it?
“We’ve heard all about the Tree!” said Corona, breaking through the forest canopy and swirling around the Pilgrim. “It is a place of torment. Anyone who goes into the Tree never comes out! It burns you up, eats you up! It kills you!”
“No,” said the Pilgrim forcefully. “It does the opposite. This pathetic imitation of a forest is death. These are not true trees. Look at them. These are not the leaves we have known! And where is the sun, the moon? All these things we once had? Think back! Think what came before this place.”
“You are the one who is deluded,” said Corona. “Listen toyourself! How can we be dead? We fly, we hunt, we think, we speak. I pity you, but you are not welcome here, spreading fear and lies!”
“Nocturna gave us the Tree as a way to a new life. We were meant only to pass through this place, on our way to the Tree.” Griffin nodded eagerly to himself, reassured by the mention of Nocturna. His mother had told him a little about her, and her promise that bats would regain the light of day. That had come true.
“Those who want to come, join us!”
Griffin looked as two Oasis Silverwings flew out to join the Pilgrims. They looked bewildered, and more than a little afraid.
“Come back!” Corona called after them. “You fools, they’re leading you to your death!”
The two bats faltered, but did not turn back. A third Silverwing flew out into the open, followed by another, until perhaps a dozen had joined the circling Pilgrims.
“Welcome, welcome,” the lead Pilgrim greeted them warmly. Turning her gaze back to Corona and the others skulking in the treetops, she said, “Think on what I have told you. I will come again to speak more to you.”
“No! Don’t come
As the Pilgrims circled overhead, a huge number of the Oasis Silverwings gathered in the higher branches, peering up curiously, muttering amongst themselves. None dared go closer. Griffin hurriedly looked for Luna, but couldn’t find her anywhere in the crowd.
“Go away!” someone called out to the Pilgrims, and Griffin recognized the voice as Corona’s. “You’re not wanted here!”
From the trees, other bats started shouting now.
“You’re crazy!”
“Clear off!”
“We’re happy where we are!”
“Stop bothering us!”
“Go! Go! Go!”
It became a chant, a horrible din that sounded like the hoarse bark of ravens, trying to drown out the old Pilgrim. But Griffin thought there was more than just derision in their voices; there was an edge of desperation, too. Their hardened faces held a frightened intensity. Even as their shouts and cries echoed through the forest, somehow the aged Pilgrim’s voice could still be heard.
“We are no longer of the living!” she cried out as she flew. “You must accept that. You—are—all—dead!”
Griffin gasped, feeling a huge rush of surprise and relief. This Silverwing
knew!
How come she knew, and all the others didn’t?
“This is the Underworld,” the Pilgrim cried out. “Every one of you is dead.”
“I’m feeling fine, thanks very much!” a mocking voice cried from the trees. Harsh laughter echoed all round.
“We were not meant to stay here eternally,” the Pilgrim persisted, the power of her voice undiminished. “In our lifetimes we undertook many journeys. There is one last journey you must make.”
“You go on ahead!” someone else shouted.
“You all believe yourselves to be alive, but it is a delusion. Death has clouded your memories of your past life, but you must try hard to remember. Do not deny the truth. This is a dead place, but there is life to come. You need not stay here forever. We can help set you on your way, but the journey must be yours. You must travel to the Tree.”
The Tree? Griffin remembered the shock on Corona’s face when she’d mistakenly thought the Tree was his home. Where was this Tree, and what was so special—and terrifying—about it?
“We’ve heard all about the Tree!” said Corona, breaking through the forest canopy and swirling around the Pilgrim. “It is a place of torment. Anyone who goes into the Tree never comes out! It burns you up, eats you up! It kills you!”
“No,” said the Pilgrim forcefully. “It does the opposite. This pathetic imitation of a forest is death. These are not true trees. Look at them. These are not the leaves we have known! And where is the sun, the moon? All these things we once had? Think back! Think what came before this place.”
“You are the one who is deluded,” said Corona. “Listen toyourself! How can we be dead? We fly, we hunt, we think, we speak. I pity you, but you are not welcome here, spreading fear and lies!”
“Nocturna gave us the Tree as a way to a new life. We were meant only to pass through this place, on our way to the Tree.” Griffin nodded eagerly to himself, reassured by the mention of Nocturna. His mother had told him a little about her, and her promise that bats would regain the light of day. That had come true.
“Those who want to come, join us!”
Griffin looked as two Oasis Silverwings flew out to join the Pilgrims. They looked bewildered, and more than a little afraid.
“Come back!” Corona called after them. “You fools, they’re leading you to your death!”
The two bats faltered, but did not turn back. A third Silverwing flew out into the open, followed by another, until perhaps a dozen had joined the circling Pilgrims.
“Welcome, welcome,” the lead Pilgrim greeted them warmly. Turning her gaze back to Corona and the others skulking in the treetops, she said, “Think on what I have told you. I will come again to speak more to you.”
“No! Don’t come
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