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Chapter 21: The Maker’s Echo
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Chapter 23: The Devil Rides at Dusk
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... former holiness, but to something far more...provocative. The hedges were trimmed into decadent shapes, obscene and magnificent. The roses had been crossbred with bloodroot, making their wine-dark petals glisten wetly beneath the moonlight like fresh wounds. The fountains didn’t gurgle — they moaned. Suggestive figures stood a top each one, sculpted into poses that would’ve gotten any lesser artist excommunicated.
It was here that I found the Council. All seven of them.
On their ...
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