PREVIEW
... heavier here—like it hadn’t been breathed for centuries. The walls were lined with dark oil paintings, each more cursed than the last. Images of martyrdom. Saints bound in barbed wire halos. Angels weeping tears of gold while their wings were burnt mid-air. One recurring figure appeared in every canvas, always looming at the center: an armored priest-king with outstretched hands, holding chains.
Chains that bound a pale girl to a cracked stone altar, her eyes wide, pleading. The detail ...
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