Although Inquisitor Varek was dead, the danger inside the Great Cistern was far from neutralized. Suspended sixty feet above the churning reservoir, the twelve iron-hooped casks of black-rot venom hung precariously from the single frayed cable that Nyra had snagged around the central support pylon. The heavy hemp fibers were groaning under the six-ton deadweight, popping one by one with sharp, sickening snaps that echoed across the cavern like gunfire.…
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