*****
The waterfall roared like an unending scream.
It thundered down the jagged face of the mountain, white water crashing violently over black stone, mist rising thick enough to blur the world beyond it. From the outside, nothing suggested what lay behind the cascade, no sign that the mountain was hollowed out, no hint that beneath the relentless rush of water existed a wound carved deep into the earth.
A cave.
Hidden. Ancient. Forgotten.
Behind the curtain of water, the air shifted, cooler, heavier, saturated with the damp scent of stone and decay. The caverns stretched inward like the veins of a dying beast, their walls slick with moisture, the ground uneven. The only light came from torches set deep into the rock, their flames flickering weakly, casting warped shadows that twisted and writhed along the walls.
Footsteps echoed.
Measured and unhurried.
Conan Valerius Hunter, The Leader, moved through the darkness as though it belonged to him.
