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It does not move
In several areas
settling into every ridge and hollow like it was always meant to be there
it held fast
the whisper of magic threaded into wood
The Crimson Court brass It does not moveThe invitation arrived sealed in crimson wax, slipped beneath the door sometime between dusk and midnight. No name, no crest. Only a single line: The Court awaits. The old estate was alive with candlelight when I arrived. Velvet gowns drifted through the ballroom, laughter low and knowing. Glasses of dark wine caught the glow of the chandeliers as music carried the dancers slowly in circles. At the centre of the room sat the Court itself pale faces,
US$ 1950.00
US$ 161.00
