The tunnel dipped lower. The further they descended, the more corpses they found. Broken bodies, mauled limbs scattered, faces shredded beyond recognition. Each corpse was fresh, blood still steaming faintly in the cool subterranean air. The walls, slick with moisture, carried the faint echo of skittering.
Behind them, another scream cut short with a wet snap. Spartacus slowed, shield angled toward the sound. Nathan merely listened, head tilted. "They die quickly," he murmured. "Whatever stalks these halls is efficient."
The tunnel widened abruptly. Ahead stretched an opening into a vast cavern. The smell hit them first—thick, cloying rot mixed with iron tang of spilled blood. Torches embedded in the rock walls gave faint light, flickering over the scene before them.
