itra

Stubby fingers wound a tiny device of brass cogs and even more minute crystals that were inlaid in spinning wheels that would produce all the tones and colours of sound that one might associate with a carnival, or when set to the proper settings, the mighty instrument of the vast sanctuary of...

Those words had stuck with him. Spoken by one so foul in appearance, and bearing such malicious power. Kiros dared not place his trust in the wretched entity. Was he not better than that, than to give in to forces so clearly malevolent? The Pilgrim did not think so. It wasn't the question...