The rock surface splits open to expose a dozen ancient steps that disappear into a smoldering haze. The ground shakes, and a growl rumbles like distant thunder from the hole.
I look up to see Bram, Cypress and Skyjo across the ruins, their lasers ready. The ruins tremble. The growl intensifies.
“Binturong!” I hear Skyjo in my earpiece.
“That’s just a bedtime story,” Cypress says, her voice taut.
“What’s a Binturong?” Bram asks.
“Moloch’s ride,” Skyjo says. “It has the head of a mulkin and the body of a beraung. When Moloch was vanquished to his moon, the Binturong was stranded on Caterra.”
“It’s just a fable,” Cypress says. “No one’s actually seen it.”
Through the steam, I see a shadow pass.
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