The underground space sank back into gloom, with only the sound of dripping water and the pained groans of the slave laborer whose transformation remained unfinished. But the atmosphere had changed completely.
The three Worm Men stopped their work of "transformation."
They slowly turned their "heads," which had no fixed features, only countless tiny worm heads writhing together, seemingly scanning the surrounding darkness through some sense beyond conventional perception.
They no longer remained scattered. Instead, they moved slowly until they stood back to back, forming a defensive triangle that rotated at a steady crawl.
Countless dark worms writhed faster across their bodies, as though on high alert, and their viscous secretions dripped more rapidly.
The threat had not passed. It had merely slipped into deeper shadows.
In this dim maze of pipes, the roles of hunter and prey had become dangerously blurred.
Lorne pressed himself snugly against the curved rear of a cooling pipe. The matte coating of his Power Armour made him almost indistinguishable from the rusted metal.
His breathing was steady, his heartbeat as precise as a calibrated clock. Through his armour's multispectral vision, he calmly observed the three abominations huddled back to back like frightened hedgehogs.
He was waiting.
Waiting for them to expose an opening, waiting for his teammates to get into position, or...
Waiting for the next perfect opportunity to kill with a single strike.
For the Raven Guard, stalking through darkness was itself the prelude to the deadliest attack.
"..."
A faint yet deeply unsettling hiss echoed between the pipes in the dim, deathly silence, like countless slick worm bodies rubbing against one another in slime.
The sound came from the Worm Man at one corner of the triangular formation.
The region formed from countless writhing worm heads, barely deserving the name "face," turned