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Chapter 17: Fingers in the dark - 7
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... ndles, their golden glow dancing across wooden crates and barrels stacked against stone walls.
The air was heavy with the scent of oak, wax, and a faint trace of lavender from the tavern’s bathhouse, lingering in the quiet.
The tavern above slumbered, its hearth a distant hum, the night outside still but for the soft rustle of leaves.
The ropes were red tonight—not crimson, not bloody, but a deep rust, like sun-warmed clay.
Kio coiled them with reverence, each len ...
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