... until we’re buried beneath an avalanche of living metal. The ironghylls surround us, their limbs like steel whips, their jaws peeling open until their bodies are turned inside-out. They fold over themselves, constantly unwrapping to reveal the hidden dimensions within. Kathy and I cling to each other, waiting for them to tear us apart … but they hold back.
I’m flying over a sea of steel, under an iron sky. Far ahead, something huge and familiar breaches the waves: a dragon, rising like an island from the depths. I gasp, because it’s a dragon I know by name: Fleogan. My son.
No comments:
Post a Comment