PREVIEW

... r Welt, in einem dunklen Raum.

Der Raum war still. Zu still.

Nicht die Art von Stille, die aus Frieden entstand, sondern die Art, die entstand, wenn etwas Uraltes den Atem anhielt.

Die Wände waren aus Stein, alt und rissig, mit Symbolen versehen, die niemand mehr zu schreiben wusste.

Es gab keine Fenster. Nur flackernde Fackeln, die zwischen schädelförmigen Wandleuchtern steckten und eine blasse, grünlich-blaue Flamme abgaben.

Der Boden war kalt. Eingemeiß ...

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