The Mistress
I said, but my voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.
I tried to stand up, to move away from the graves, but the ground didn’t feel solid anymore. The marble headstones began to tilt. The rows of graves started to spin like a carousel of gray teeth. I reached out, my fingers clawing at the air, trying to find a handrail, a blueprint, anything to steady the world.
“The foundation…” I muttered, my mind slipping back into the language of the Architect. “The foundation is shifting, Zander. The soil… it’s too soft. It won’t hold the weight.”