“The island in Mirror Lake at the northern end of the valley is a place of death, avoided by all that live and breathe. Stories tell of ancient magic – and a crypt brimming with gold and wondrous artifacts. But the island is wreathed in demonic fog that sucks the life out of anything that comes near.”
On a hilltop stands a column of white marble so tall it rises above the yellowish mist. A narrow staircase winds its way up the column. Five arms support a wide stone slab at the top of the tower.
No comments:
Post a Comment