The Golden Cellar
The stone cracked. Dust billowed in the torchlight, choking the air. I stood in the cellar, my hands steady. The sword was heavy. The iron ring on my finger was heavier. It was the only thing I had left of him. "Break," I said. The wall gave way. We were inside. The room was small. The air was thick. It smelled of rot and old blood. In the center stood a table. On the table lay the body. It was...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen