Hearts and Ashes
Already, some had fallen to its grasp, and the rest waited in fear, their faces pale with the certainty that death lingered nearby.
I tied a strip of cloth around my nose and mouth before stepping into the Aetherium, clutching a bucket of water. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of vomit and decay, thick enough to cling to the skin. The torches, dimly flickering against the walls, cast long shadows across the stone floor, making the scene even more macabre. The sound of labored breathing, mixed with the occasional cough or moan, filled the room.
The scent of death hung over the space, lingering, waiting.
Bab Populer