The Lost Temple of the Runestone

    There was an absolute stillness in the Lost Temple. The kind of deep, abiding stillness that dwelt in places long abandoned by all human and even animal life, the kind of stillness that was only accentuated by the frigid air of winter, and in the Temple there seemed to be no breath of breeze or draft, as if the atmosphere itself were frozen in place. Even the torch burned steadily but low, not blazing or crackling or shifting this way and that. Into this cold, still air, Arngeirr’s long-delayed exhalation exploded out in a cloud, stirring mote...

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