We had to move.
The back half of our camp had already sheared away from the cliff face and dropped into the abyss, and the rest of the cavern was caving in after it, its rock walls closing like a fist. The Precipice was trying to seal the colossal wound we had left in the deep layers, and the collapse was racing straight up the chute toward us.
The floor gave way beneath my boots.
Gravity yanked us into the dark. Loose gravel, crushed pumice and falling boulders rained through the freezing air around us.
I didn't panic. Panic was for the early layers, back when my core was a cracked bowl and every fight cost me a piece of my sanity. Now twenty-five thousand units of Dark Essence sat steady in my veins, and the Ealdrim system had stopped being something that happened to me. These days, I was a tactician with a full magazine.
