The group gathers their supplies and pushes into the jungle. Vines snag at their clothing. Mud sucks at their boots. Humidity wraps around them like a wet blanket. Two hours pass in a haze of sweat and effort, hacking through undergrowth that closes behind them moments after they pass.
The trees begin to shake.
Birds explode from the canopy in a shrieking panic, wings beating frantically as they flee. A roar splits the air—deep, primal, hungry. Something enormous crashes through the jungle, snapping trees like twigs. The sound grows closer. Louder.
The party has thirty seconds.
In the distance, another roar rolls across the jungle like thunder. Water in a nearby puddle trembles, sending ripples across its muddy surface. The trembling becomes shaking. The shaking becomes violent splashing.
Three scoots up the trunk of a large palm tree to see if he can spy what is happening. Above the canopy, he can see a large scaly dome crashing through the leaves, moving in their direction. “It’s another giant reptile, coming our way! Run!”
The party scatters, diving behind the thickest trees they can find. They press themselves flat against bark and stone, barely breathing. Then it appears.
The Tyrannosaurus Rex bursts through a stand of trees, splintering trunks and crushing ferns beneath feet the size of dinner tables. Its massive head swings back and forth, nostrils flaring. Yellow eyes scan the jungle floor.
The captain, slower than the rest, stumbles. His injured leg buckles.
The T-Rex’s head snaps toward the movement.
In three thunderous strides, the creature is on him. Massive jaws close around the captain’s body. He doesn’t even have time to scream. The dinosaur’s head tilts back and the captain disappears.
“I just healed him,” Astrid gasps, her voice barely a whisper.
The T-Rex stands still for a moment, tasting the air. Then it turns, crashing back into the jungle. Trees crack and fall. The sound fades slowly into the distance, leaving only the normal sounds of the jungle—insects, wind, the calls of distant birds.
The party waits. No one moves. Finally, Nesquo signals, and they emerge from their hiding places. Without speaking, they gather their gear and move on, giving the T-Rex’s path a wide berth. No one looks back.
They trudge through the jungle, the weight of loss heavy on their shoulders. No one speaks. The captain’s death replays in each mind—the sudden violence, the helplessness in the face of such an enormous creature. The devastating loss of one who had been their leader after the loss of their sergeant.
But the encounter has sharpened their senses. When Grapalt’s boot sinks into ground that looks solid, he jerks back immediately. The earth ahead shivers and shifts. Quicksand. The party picks their way carefully around the treacherous patch, testing each step before committing their weight.
An hour later, the jungle begins to change. The trees grow more orderly, almost arranged. Stone blocks jut from the undergrowth, covered in moss and lichen. Then the trees part.
The temple rises before them.
An immense doorway is sealed with a slab of stone that stretches fifteen feet above them. The sandstone is smooth, worn by centuries of wind and rain. A carving dominates the surface—a serpent, its body coiled in intricate patterns. At the serpent’s head, a perfectly round hole opens like a mouth, dark and empty.
On the doorstep, a line of writing is carved into the stone.
Astrid kneels, brushing away dirt and moss with careful fingers. The script is elegant, flowing, unmistakably ancient. “It’s Elvish,” she says. Her voice sounds too loud after the long silence. She traces the letters, translating slowly. “Only moonlight may enter until the serpent drinks.”
The group exchanges glances. Istyher looks up.
Above the enormous door, a dozen tiny windows are cut into the stone wall. They are small, barely large enough for a hand to pass through. Sparrows flit in and out of the openings, chirping as they go about their business, oblivious to the party far below.
Whatever lies within remains hidden to them. For now.
