The Golden Suspect
You wake in the cellar, the air thick with the scent of wet stone and old blood, though you have drawn none. The dampness seeps into your bones, a cold that no hearth can banish, for the cold is not of the earth but of the spirit. You are Aldous, the Keeper of the Whisper, and you have been summoned not to the court, but to the dungeon, where the light fails and the shadows breathe. The chains...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews