The Golden Farce
The rain fell on the slate roof of the Inquisition Hall in a steady, gray sheet. It was the sound that kept Elias awake. He sat at his heavy oak desk, the wood cold against his forearms, and stared at the candle. The flame flickered, casting long, trembling shadows that danced like ghosts against the stone walls. Elias was a Senior Inquisitor. His title meant little to the men who served the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen