The Pale Shadows
The cellar smelled of wet stone and old blood. Elias stood in the center of the room, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps that fogged in the sudden cold. He held the iron key in his left hand, the metal biting into his palm, while his right hand hovered over the silver chalice resting on the dusty table. It was beautiful, a terrible, cold beauty that made his teeth ache. The debt was due at...
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