The mountain was hungry.
Inside, the light was strange—filtered through the cracked rose window, broken into colors that shifted and bled across the floor like water. The pews were empty. The altar was bare. But at the far end, beneath the great mosaic of the Saint Ascending, something moved. caliross
Elara stepped through the gate.
“So take my place,” the girl whispered. “Or run again. But if you run, the mountain will follow. And it won’t stop until it finds every last name it didn’t get to eat.” The mountain was hungry