The Word of the Prophet
The flicker of the masterscope solidified into a golden ember, casting its light on my sanctum. Restlessness had jolted my bones through the night, eyes wide in darkness, absorbing the scritch-scratching noises that scraped from the opposite side of the wall. The scritch-scratching stopped, then continued. I rose from my mould in the stone and cut a tally in the floor, counting thirty-one marks since the masters last entered my sanctum—today marked the end of the cycle. Continue reading The Word of the Prophet
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