The ledge was treachery beneath his feet. Crumbling rocks, slimy moss, and serpentine roots that seemed to want to sort him out and trip him. Dylan ran. He ran like it was the first time in his life, driven by a terror so pure it burned like the core inside his chest.
The roar of the chasm was fading, replaced by the ragged thunder in his ears and the oppressive silence of the ancient forest closing in around him. A cathedral of shadows and monstrous trunks, where sunlight barely pierced through, filtered into pale spears by the canopy.
"Alive. The Master will want to interrogate him." The arbalester's monotone voice echoed in his skull, more terrifying than a scream. He glanced back over his shoulder. The dark figures were already on the ledge.
One was climbing with reptilian agility, steel claws gripping the stone. The other, the arbalester, advanced with measured, implacable steps, a short, blackened javelin already in hand. No haste. The certainty of the predator.
