The deep part of the dungeon was where the road stopped being a road.
Kaiden stepped out of the last switchback into a cathedral of a cavern, and the floor of it moved.
The dungeon had stopped sending waves. It had emptied an entire cycle's payout into one chamber and let it pool there, marrow-crawlers packed across the floor shoulder to shoulder in their dozens, eyeless, hairless, slick, hunched on four knuckled forelimbs and open-mouthed to a man.
The screech that had chased him down the last switchback had come out of those open mouths, all of them at once.
Flensers hung off the ceiling among the stalactites, folded into themselves. Membrane stretched between overlong limbs, hook-rows down every edge of it, and nothing else to them at all.
Through the middle of that pool, shouldering the small ones aside, came the deep things.
Two gravebores, blind and armored in overlapping bone, a wedge of fused skull where each of them should have had a face.
