as chariah inhaled more smoke , more flesh from the severed limbs and torsos floating in the boiling blood of the necromantic pipe , he heard the rush of firestorms above , the silence of the oneirophage halting as he was cornered , the sharp clicking of iron gears , the groaning of trapdoor hinges springing open , the rush of air as the oneirophage fell one hundred feet to the adamantium floors of the flesh reservoir , the scrabbling of his long fingernails as he struggled to climb the sheer , sloping sides , the sound of reptile scales sliding down the metal inclines , the loud clap of another trapdoor opening in four pieces , and then the satisfactory splash of the oneirophage falling into the boiling lake of ichor in the heart chamber of the bloodbong .