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Gods Archives
A Clever Tea EggWestern Fantasy105k Wordsongoing
The iron door of the archives closed slowly, with a dull sound, like the lid of a sarcophagus falling. The night was cut off, leaving only rows of cold yellow lights in the corridor. The iron frame is towering, and the shadows on both sides overlap, like countless silent guards. The air is filled with the smell of aged paper, dry and slightly sour, like the breath of time. There is a newly delivered dossier on the table, with a white cover and no title, only a light gold symbol: similar to "Ω",
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