Panting, we reached the summit of the hill. My guide gestured towards the horizon. The stunning mountain range snatched my breath away even further.
“They call that ridge ‘The Sleeping Giants’,”
I could see why. Trapped within its topography were familiar looking shapes: monstrous, slumbering creatures.
“Legend say it’s the Nephilim… Spawn of fallen angels, waiting to be called to paradise…”
Suddenly, I stumbled, as the ground surrounding us shook.
Earthquake? A landslide?
A chorus of a thousand trumpets echoed as the peak before us split open.
The dreaming beasts had been awoken.
And God have mercy…
They looked hungry.
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Stone Jaws by Evan Baughfman"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>