Claws of the Abyss

The Dreadwyrm's roar tore through the Holloway estate like a primal scream, a sound so deep and guttural it vibrated in Elara's chest, shaking loose the last threads of her composure. The creature loomed beyond the shattered front doors, its massive form blotting out the midday sun—a serpentine nightmare of scales and shadow, its body coiling through the rift like smoke given flesh. Its eyes burned red, twin furnaces of malice that swept over the mansion, and its claws, each as long as a man, gouged the earth as it landed, sending tremors rippling through the cracked marble floor of the foyer.

Vincent tightened his grip on Elara, pulling her to her feet as debris rained around them—splinters of wood, shards of glass, the remnants of their sanctuary. "Move!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos as he dragged her back from the threshold. His discarded spear clattered uselessly nearby, no match for the beast now filling the courtyard with its bulk.