A great weight pressed in on her, crushing her sides until she could barely breathe. Then it let go, and she fell, plummeting into darkness.
Esme crashed, spreadeagled, onto a wet, uneven floor.
Something had broken her fall. She pulled herself to her feet and threw ashlight around her, stifling a scream.
She had landed on the remains of a feast. Bones were strewn everywhere: ribcages, vertebrae, curved horns, and long, lethal claws, lying half-submerged in shallow puddles of water.
The air was thick and clammy, and the chamber silent, apart from the steady drip of water from behind her. She stood up and drifted ghostly streams of green from her fingertips, illuminating a place that was devoid of light. Water drizzled down a row of yawning stone dragons fixed to a wall, which curved up
