The Golden Master
The blood on the stone floor of the high chamber was still wet, pooling in the cracks between the flagstones with a dark, viscous sheen. Elias knelt beside the body of Thomas, his apprentice of three years, whose chest heaved with a rhythm that had ceased to be human. The air tasted of ozone and burnt copper, the scent of a magical backlash that had torn through the workshop and into the keep’s...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima