A. Montresor

Sadja did not know what to think of this place. She stood on an endless, glass-smooth plane, the sky as vast and dark as an ocean of ink. No stars, either new or old, streaked its smooth surface. She looked down at her body and could perfectly see her hands and limbs and her clothes…

Elissa’s study smelled like old things. Like leather, and rust, and seeping mold beneath the sleeping stones of the temple. She sat next to her on a large black table. The room was a wide circle surrounded by tall and thin windows shaped like bullets. Veils of sunlight peered though, as the occasional snowflake blinked…

Sadja had never entered the town proper. But she did pick up clues. Putting on a light cloak to hide most of her more… peculiar features, she slipped past the line of iron rods on the fresh snow. It was a clear mornings after yet another night of groans and laments outside the protected circle…