The silence snapped like dry bark beneath a heavy boot.
Inigo's breath hitched.
A tremor passed through the ground, almost imperceptible at first—but then came again, stronger. Dust and ash shivered off the crumbled arches of the ruin. The skull of the ancient dragon at the center of the platform trembled in its resting place, vibrating as if it sensed something older than death returning.
"Inigo," Lyra said quietly. "We need to leave."
He didn't argue.
He turned on instinct, rifle already raised toward the ridge behind them. The path they came through—silent moments ago—now exhaled heat. The shadows pulled away like breath drawn into enormous lungs.
And then, with a sound like a mountain exhaling—
It stepped into view.
