The bridge swayed as Aric neared it, though no wind stirred the chamber. The movement came from something far below, a shifting mass that made the stone arch tremble.
The girl in his arms had gone rigid. Her small hands clutched his shirt, her breathing shallow but sharp. “Don’t look down,” she whispered.
He looked down.
The chasm yawned beneath the bridge, black as midnight. But the darkness wasn’t empty. Shapes moved within it — slow, deliberate coils, thicker than tree trunks, glistening with a slick, oily sheen. Every so often, something luminous flickered deep below, like the flash of an eye reflecting light.
Then it rose.
First came the sound — a grinding, wet scrape, as though stone and flesh were tearing against each other. The mossy glow of the chamber dimmed as the thing’s i
