Running in his wake, Pilgrim found little comfort in the cleric’s claim as the ruins resolved out of the mist. Whatever this building was it had been big. A long series of curved pillars arced up to a height of over thirty feet, extending beyond the breadth of the island to descend into the marsh on the eastern side. There were gaps between each of the pillars, easily wide enough to allow entry of a man, and he doubted the columns were substantial enough to withstand a determined charge from the pursuing unseen giant.

“This is no fortress,” he said, following Priest as he slipped between two pillars.

“No,” the youth replied, staring at the structure’s interior with both fear and wonder on his face. “No, it is not.”

Pilgrim saw it then, the huge boulder lying in the centre of the long hall created by the two rows of pillars. He initially took it for a weathered sculpture of some kind, an abandoned statue to the Mad God. But, looking closer he saw no resemblance to any human figure. It appeared to be a large upturned font with stunted square wings extending from both sides. It was covered in moss which, when scraped away, revealed a dark, smooth surface very different from stone.

It’s bone, my liege, the voice told him in the tone of a tutor to a dimwitted child. Isn’t it obvious where we are? What this is? Can’t you feel it?

Understanding dawned as Pilgrim’s gaze tracked from the lump of bone to another several yards to his left, this one marginally smaller. A half dozen more lay beyond it, forming a line that disappeared into the marsh, leading to what appeared to be another islet. Like the bones, it was covered in thick green moss, but he could make out the dark recess of what was clearly an eye socket just above the waterline.

“Kraken,” he murmured, eyes roving the huge skeleton that surrounded them. It had been a very long time since he had experienced a sensation of unalloyed wonder, but faced with the bones of so fabled a creature it was inescapable. Added to it was the sense of undeniable power lingering in these ancient bones. The voice was right; he could feel it like a hot wind blowing invisible sand against his skin. It was a far from comfortable sensation.