The Faded River
The ink on the parchment was not black, but a deep, arterial red that seemed to pulse in the dim light of the scriptorium. Elias Thorne watched the droplet hang from the tip of the quill, trembling before it fell, and he felt the weight of the Inquisitor’s gaze like a physical blow to his chest. "Brother Elias," Inquisitor Vane said, his voice dry as parchment, "the letter is signed with your...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews