From Chains To Crown
The last thing I remembered was the doctor’s voice:
You’ll sleep a little, and when you wake, the world will be waiting.
Well, it was.
But not the world I knew.
The air was thick with mold and rot. The faint flicker of firelight slipped through a grated door across the room. Stone walls bled dampness. I could smell old blood, dried, and something more primal.
My pulse kicked. “Hello?” I whispered. “Is someone there?”
No response.
Until I heard footsteps.
Heavy boots echoed against stone. The door creaked open.
A man stepped through—towering, broad, dressed in black leathers with a crimson sash and a silver emblem on his chest: a crescent moon coiled in serpents.
Bab Populer