First order of business: blazikenXlucario, I couldn't reply to your review, but it's cool. Dream is a friend. We insult each other on a daily basis. Although the thought is still appreciated!

So I finally realized that I've had a sort of pattern going with the chapters. Like, Jaz is a healer, and she was killed by an injury she couldn't fix; Walt was determined to die as himself in TSS, and he died as a Siren…

Subconscious me, I'm impressed with you. Good job.

I also think I might have accidentally done some symbolism with this one; I'll explain at the bottom.

Enjoy.

O-o-O

-fire-

Carter's knees screamed in protest as he rocketed through the forest; the ground was dry and tough and he swore he could feel himself developing shin splints with every step, but he didn't stop. Beside him, Sadie screamed profanities—at her feet, at the sky, at him—but it was an effective method for keeping her panic at bay, so he wasn't going to stop her.

His own panic wasn't so easy to deal with. It was next to impossible to run with the I'm-going-to-puke-up-my-heart feeling ready to overtake him, never mind the smoke that not only fried his lungs, but obscured his vision—and he knew, he just knew, every time he shot past a tree, that he was going to see some huge, rearing monster and that would be the very unpleasant end of Carter Kane.

But there was no monster and no vicious, bloody demise. There was just smoke and fire and somewhere, far off in the trees, a bellowing roar that shook the ground. It didn't make running any easier.

"Zia," he coughed, and Sadie paused in her stream of curses to remind him that "She told us to run, you dillop! Faster, for fuck's sake, you worthless piece of—"

Her foul-mouthed commentary continued, giving Carter a play-by-play update on Sadie's visual surroundings: "Get out of my way, you stupid fucking bush—shit, ow, thorns—" He did his best to ignore her.

There was another roar, one which actually did shake the ground and sent both him and Sadie stumbling to a halt, face-first in the dirt.

Choking and coughing up rotting leaves, Carter finally managed to raise his head, and found himself staring at a solid mass of wood—gigantic, ancient trees, at the heart of the forest. They were packed so close that, he realized with a sickening jolt, he and Sadie would never be able to run through them. They'd be forced to walk as they picked their way through—which was exactly the sort of thing Zia had told them not to do; Don't you dare slow down, run until you're out of the trees—no, don't wait for me, I'll find you—go!

Her final order had been accompanied by a hearty shove, and then Zia had turned her back on both of them and sprinted away—straight toward the sounds of something huge crashing through the trees.

Carter hadn't looked back, but he'd felt the heat as Zia's battle with the whatever-it-was—she'd refused to tell him—set the nearest trees burning.

That had been ages ago. Now, with despair lapping eagerly at his heels, he looked at the solid wall of forest and his mind cast itself back, searching their route for a place to turn off, escape the trees, and he found himself conjuring up the memories of the roars and was suddenly, absolutely convinced that through the noise he had heard a human scream—

And then as Sadie pulled him to his feet and commanded him to get his "lazy arse moving, you horrible useless lump of an organism" he did hear a scream—a very human scream.

Sadie's insults halted as someone staggered out of the trees. Zia appeared from the shadows, clutching at her stomach with one hand and steadying herself against a tree with the other. She looked up, her amber eyes sparkling despite the darkness around them, and for one wonderful, horrible moment, Carter could see everything with absolute clarity.

Later, he guessed that adrenaline had sped up his thought process—putting him in do-or-die mode—but just then, he was convinced that the world had taken pity on him and stopped time for a moment. Or maybe the world was being especially cruel, letting him see everything.

Zia's clothes were in tatters—in fact, they were so clawed and torn that it was being generous to call the fluttering scraps of fabric clothes—but that was nothing next to the skin underneath. She was shredded, soaked in sticky red liquid that ran down her body and pooled on the forest floor and reeked of rust and copper and made his stomach lurch as the stink of bloo—

No.

Zia's left hand, the one pressed to her stomach, was missing several fingers. She was shaking, nearly doubled over as she held her hand close, like she was trying to hold herself together—

And then, to his horror, Carter realized that she was holding herself together, that she was torn open and bleeding and collapsing—

And as her knees hit the ground she yelled "Go!"—

The next moment was astonishingly quiet. There was no earthshaking explosion, no final scream of agony. The loudest sound was Sadie's shout as she threw up a shield against the column of fire that rolled out of the trees with a soft whoom.

The flames lapped at their little bubble's edges and rolled on.

The trees had been reduced to piles of ash, piles that drifted through the air and obscured his vision of the monstrous thing lumbering across the wasteland.

Sadie dragged him to his feet, and she dragged him on, his ears still ringing from the horrible ghastly silence.

O-o-O

These are getting more and more gruesome and it's fun.

Anyway, accidental symbolism: was I the only one who noticed that Zia never really talked to anyone in the series except Carter? Like, she made polite conversation with Sadie a few times, but she never sat down and actually talked about herself with anyone else. On a slightly related topic, Riordan dropped some two-ton hints that Zia's mental health wasn't exactly its best. (Ask I'mDifferent-GetOverIt for details; she was the one who pointed it out to me because Tori is a genius.) In fact you could even make a case for her being certifiably insane.

So I started developing this theory-type thing that Zia doesn't really talk about herself because she's afraid of herself, or her past, or something deep and metaphorically resonant like that, and if she actually had to open up it would kill her.

Ha. Ha. Geddit. 'Cause she—

Yeah.

That's probably the painkillers talking. (I dislocated some ribs the other day.)

The painkillers should probably stop talking. Bye.