To understand it, he would have needed time. A bellow from that Guardian – as the mage Magnus had named it – told him that he had none of the time that he required. A glance towards the exit. A possible moment to retreat. Oliver's feet took a backwards step towards it. There seemed no reason to fight a creature as monstrous as this, when the risks were already plentiful enough, and the rewards equally uncertain.
A vague reward in victory was the best that he could hope to aim for, and even then, he was not even certain that he could beat the thing. Another backward step, as the creature advanced. It dragged itself across the floor like a lizard, its wings unfurling, as they beat angrily against the air, and chipped the top of the cavern that it was confined in.
