Eidolon Ave: The Second Feast
No.
“It calls us, you know, Bramato, that patch of earth.” He still gazed at the pictures, his hands locked behind his back, lost in the aphotic folds of his cassock. “Even if one doesn’t live there, as I didn’t, it tugs us back into its orbit, into its shade.”
“Eidolon,” she said, finding her voice.
“Its reach is wide; its embrace final and fatal.”
“I’m sorry, Father, but I don’t—”
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