Whitehall

Posted: May 29, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Horror, Sword and Sorcery

He roamed the wastelands, finding them, killing them, and returning their skulls one by one to the Fogotten City. By the dawn of the Fifth Age, when Man sought to relearn what had been Forgotten, he had built a great hall and within the hall was a throne all made of gleaming white bone. They found him there, waiting.

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