The ground roared beneath his heels, a chasm chasing him like a living thing with hunger in its breath.
Damien ran.
Harder than he ever had. The wind tore at his face. Each step jarred his joints. His lungs burned. His heart slammed against his ribs like a war drum, trying to force blood into muscles that had already begun to seize.
The plateau behind him collapsed in sheets.
Stone crumbled like sand as the rupture widened—lava boiling up from the depths, casting a hellish glow that painted the sky in orange and red. The very air shimmered with heat, sucking moisture from his skin, his breath, his bones.
Every nerve screamed.
But he didn't stop.
'Faster.'
The word pounded through his skull, over and over, a single note of defiance.
'Faster. Faster. FASTER.'
His legs felt like fire, muscles tearing with each lunge. His calves locked. His knees threatened to give out.
Still, he ran.
Because the drop was too close. Too deep.
