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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