The gate deposited her into silence.
The last floor was a coliseum. Ancient stone rose in crumbling tiers around a vast, circular arena. Broken pillars stood like grave markers. The sky above was not sky. It was a dome of swirling, bruised clouds, lit from within by distant, silent lightning.
At the center of the arena, it waited.
The Chimera.
It was massive. The size of a war elephant. Its body was that of a lion, corded with muscle beneath its tawny fur. But from its shoulders sprouted two heads. One, a goat with twisting horns of polished jet. The other, a serpent, its scales the color of dried blood. Its tail was a living viper, its fangs dripping venom that sizzled where it struck the stone.
But the true terror was its wings. Not one set, but two. Feathered eagle wings folded against its flanks. And leathery dragon wings, half-unfurled, crackling with contained lightning.
