The realization that he was standing inside the mouth of a creature the size of a city district was a unique kind of horror. It was a cold, intellectual terror, a sudden, violent re-calibration of the scale of the universe. He was not a warrior in a hostile city. He was a piece of food that had not yet been swallowed. The Whispering Blade's warning had saved him from a fate he couldn't even begin to imagine.
He backed away from the water's edge slowly, his eyes wide as he stared at the colossal "teeth" on the far side of the plaza. He had to get out. Now.
He turned and fled, moving away from the submerged district and deeper into the city proper. He ran through a series of grand, yet crumbling, archways, his soaked boots slapping against the black stone, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the slumbering, city-sized leviathan. He didn't stop until the scent of the sea was gone, replaced by the dry, dusty smell of ancient, undisturbed stone.
