“The black stone was warm to the touch, constantly changing to record the prayers and gifts of his followers. Every image and tribute ever created in his honor was here, preserved in the rock. To his right, the blood paintings of the Xantock Warrior Elves shone in the light, still wet after thousands of years. Overhead, the intricate carvings of the Undermountain Dwarf Clan spelled out their long-winded prayers. The temple had gotten uncomfortably large over the years. Tiny bells jingled on Autu...mnstar’s sleeve as he touched a starburst a child had drawn in the mud. The ebony stone mimicked her painting so perfectly he could even discern the tiny whorls and loops where her fingertips had pressed the mud. Clumsy hieroglyphs below the picture read Tell gramma I miss her and please send me a puppy. The painting was two centuries old, and the girl had long since followed her gramma. Autumnstar’s forehead wrinkled. He had forgotten to take care of the puppy. That had been right around the start of the war, so he could probably be forgiven an oversight or two, but it still bothered him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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