Chapter 11 · free to read
Three days, and the mountain had built a religion around a cracked rock. Cursed stone. A vengeful ghost. A punishment from the heavens. Nobody guessed the sweeper.
One disciple was not building a religion. He was building a case.
Ambition on this mountain wore a hundred faces. This one wore a brush and a very good memory.
One blade wanted out. He held it down with a broken rib and the flat of his hand.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.