Drip...
Drip...
Sweat burst from her forehead, the back of her neck, and her spine all at once, slowly dripping down her jaw.
The icy touch spread through her entire body from where her skin pressed against the stone slab.
Priscilla felt as though she could no longer breathe.
It was as if something had filled her lungs, leaving no room for air to enter.
She fought not to lower her head, trying to make her eyes—almost bulging from their sockets—see the outline of that enormous creature clearly.
In the darkness, its overlapping scales bore a deep hue somewhere between dark bronze and reddish brown.
At the edge of that faint light, every rise and fall of its breathing made the broad scales scrape against one another, producing a clanging sound that filled her with terror.
Following its powerful neck upward were two horns curved back like enormous spears.
At the center of that ferocious face, bristling with bony spikes and scales, a vertical pupil larger than a carriage wheel stared down at her.
Dark red flames flickered in the depths of that eye, as though it had seen through every scrap of greed and fear buried in her soul.
A dragon!
Even though she had never seen such a creature with her own eyes before, she knew at first glance what she was facing.
Whether in the illustrations of weighty ancient tomes, the drunken boasts of adventurers in taverns, or the epic ballads sung by bards, all spoke of the terror and power of this creature at the top of the food chain.
They were the overlords of sky and earth, the embodiment of greed.
Legend had it that dragons piled every treasure they had amassed over their long lives inside their nests, then slept atop the hoard.
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