The Ant King flew without rest.
Its six arms held Kaelen in a secure, unyielding grip as the endless expanse of open sea stretched in every direction below them. There was no land in sight. Only dark water, broken occasionally by white-capped waves that looked deceptively small from this height. The wind tore at Kaelen's face and clothing. The rhythmic beat of the Ant King's wings filled his ears until it became the only constant sound left in the world.
Kaelen's stomach had given up almost immediately.
He vomited again, the contents of his stomach torn away by the wind before they could fall far. The combination of extreme height and the endless, shifting surface of the sea had wrecked his sense of balance. Every slight adjustment in the Ant King's flight path sent a fresh wave of nausea through him. He had already emptied everything he had. Now he was reduced to dry heaves and the bitter taste of bile.
