The silence that followed the scream was worse than all the noises of battle. A thick silence, laden with ill intent. The darkness itself seemed to contract, pressing on their shoulders, seeping into their pores. No creature attacked them anymore. The horde of small, ravenous things had fled—not from fear of men, but out of reverential terror. They had yielded the place to the master of these depths.
The seconds stretched into hours. Only the muffled panting of soldiers and the distant drip of water disturbed the oppressive calm. Maggie felt the others' fear rising like a tide, carrying with it the acrid stench of cold sweat and adrenaline. She closed her eyes, not to rest, but to sharpen her sixth sense—the perception of the Awakened that reached beyond sight.
