The low, rhythmic thrum of distant seismic drills vibrated through two miles of solid basalt.
Inside the deep grotto, fine black silt drifted down from the vaulted ceiling like soot.
Sera Thorne adjusted her grip on her spear, her amber eyes scanning the narrow chimney overhead. “Twenty-five minutes before their resonance drills reach maximum torque. Once they lock into the fault lines, the entire canyon neck will collapse.”
“Then we have ten minutes to finish our shopping and fifteen to hang it up,” Kaelen said, dusting the sweet potato crumbs from his bathrobe lap.
He stood up from his warm obsidian slab, slipping his feet into his cork sandals.
He walked over to the open deck of the flagship, where four burly sailors were already hauling a massive black iron cauldron down the wooden gangway.
The Tier 7 Imperial Dragon-Cauldron landed on the basalt floor with a dull, ringing thud.
The heavy bronze dragon handles hummed in resonance with the subterranean earth-vein. The ambient heat from the Grade-8 thermal spring flared beneath the belly of the vessel, turning the carved scales cherry red in three seconds.
