The Faded Ruin
The tablet hums. It is a low, vibrating note that sits in your teeth, a physical pressure against the back of your skull. You are twelve years old, and your fingers are stained with the grey dust of the High Archive. You want to read it. The Faded Ruin, they call it. A slab of obsidian, no larger than a loaf of bread, that has sat in the restricted alcove for three centuries. It has never...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima