The Great Bronze Gate of the Fifth Century shuddered as the Alpha Hound squeezed its huge chassis through the ten-arm-length opening.
The beast did not rush. It moved with a slow, calculating, hungry majesty that was far more terrifying than the reckless charge of the scouts. Its massive black-bronze body gleamed in the dim green bioluminescence rising from the salt water pools, its thick armor plates clattering softly like the scales of an iron dragon.
In the center of its flat, three-sided skull, the single six-inch metal tube of flawless star-fallen quartz spun with a steady, rhythmic hum, casting a sweeping beam of warm amber tracking light across the floor.
As the amber beam touched the threshold flags, the quartz metal tube suddenly locked in place.
Its internal sight prisms detected the tiny droplets of dried blood that Yan Zhiqiu had left along the entrance doorstep. A deep, air-powered growl rumbled through the machine’s chest cavity—a sound like two massive millstones grinding together without grain—as its command metal tube processed the scent.
Mortal blood. Royal lineage of Yan-Luo. Iron content ninety-two percent.
Above the grinding floor, standing upon the raised watching pulpit ten arm-lengths in the air, Yan Zhiqiu stood in the full, unshaded glare of her animal fat lantern.
