Wings of Faith

The cathedral groaned as it soared through the air, its buttress wings flapping slowly, painfully. In the catacombs, the hymns rang from the walls like spears.

"What's happening?" gasped Ellis, pouring the rest of his water ration over his head. "It feels like we're dropping."

"It's the belfry people," said Tyre. "They're protesting because they didn't get meat for dinner."

Ellis stared. "Nobody did. We slaughtered the livestock last month. Burned half for offerings, for all it helped."

"Tell them that."

"But if we don't all believe, all sing... we'll die. We'll all fall."

Tyre glanced up. "I guess they think they'll land on top."