Damon didn't have time to contemplate the dread of what he'd seen beneath the water. All he knew was—they were out of that part.
Now came the next, just as perilous. If they were unlucky, they'd end up as food in the belly of some horror—or worse—cursed, or better yet, corrupted by rot.
The sounds in the distance were unnerving, horrifying even—but after what he had witnessed beneath the surface, Damon would take his chances with whatever roamed above.
A loud crack shattered the moment—the box beside him caved in, exploding into splinters of damp wood.
Leona rolled out, sword already drawn, wearing the awakened shell form of her armor—a light tunic threaded with metal and glowing lines of power.
The others scrambled out one by one, weapons clutched tightly in hand, breathing heavy and erratic.
Xander tore what remained of the box apart with a grunt, emerging with a shortened version of his spear gripped in his hand, his eyes sweeping their surroundings like a hawk hunting prey.
