6
Antomír gasped.
But he did not breathe.
That was strange.
Something bright flashed above him, like the first rays of the morning sun on Ghavan Isle’s snows. For a long time, he didn’t understand what he was seeing. The flashes continued, like a distant rain of fire. Though his thoughts were swimming in thick syrup, he nevertheless made out clear images in the murky expanse above him. He could not call it a sky.
Something flowed as water, but viewed as from beneath: the view of a fish looking up at the world outside its domain. As soon as that thought occurred to him, he made sense of the other images. Tree roots—immense and endlessly complex in their loops and intertwinings, but not connected to any soil he could see. Hanging in the expanse above. Beyond the roots, hazy, as though t
