The world split in two.
Above, a suicide charge into the jaws of death.
Below, a desperate hunt through the veins of a god.
As Dante led his team—Lana and Talia—down the great, spiraling staircase that wound around the outside of the bone-island, the sounds of battle from the lair above began to fade.
Replaced by a low, humming sound. Coming from the very rock beneath their feet.
This was a journey into the unknown. A plan based on desperate, insane theory.
The island was the dragon's body. A massive vessel for its ancient, soul-fueled power.
They were not just climbing down a mountain. They were cutting it open.
Searching for a heart they had to pray even existed.
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The staircase ended at a narrow ledge overlooking the swirling purple abyss.
There was no clear path forward. The outside of the island was a sheer, unclimbable cliff of black, obsidian-like bone.
