The doors to the city didn't just open; they were practically blown inward by a gust of wind that smelled like burnt pine and old blood. Emerging from the cool, silent "marrow" of the World Tree felt like stepping out of a cellar and straight into a forest fire.
The smoke was so thick it stung my eyes, and for a second, I just stood there, coughing into the crook of my arm. My Level 10 constitution wasn't doing me any favors. My lungs felt like they were being lined with sandpaper, and the sudden noise—the screaming of elves, the roar of mana-cannons, and the rhythmic, terrifying thrum of airship engines—was almost enough to make me want to turn around and go back down to the roots.
"Ren, move! You're blocking the door!" Red shouted, giving me a sharp shove that sent me stumbling onto the white stone walkway.
