Warden Krahl sneered at Galen Morvane’s trembling golden medallion, but his calloused hand slammed down upon the primary bronze floodgate lever.
The massive gear teeth ground together with a deafening shriek of groaning iron.
“You insolent whelp,” Krahl growled, his scarred, volcanic face dark with murderous contempt. “You wave Malakor’s seal in my command tower, yet you couldn’t guard your own family strongbox against a common thief.”
Galen Morvane choked on his own bile, his face crimson with humiliation and panic.
“Just open the sluice gates, Warden!” Galen shrieked, his voice bouncing off the iron walls of the observation platform. “Whoever butchered Vorg and looted my annex is hiding in these tunnels! Burn them out!”
The central command tower hung suspended by eighty-foot iron chains directly over the primary caldera pit.
Below the grated floorplates, a sea of boiling orange magma churned and bubbled like a ravenous beast.
Krahl glared through the narrow viewing slit at the dark labyrinth of Sector One.
