Noting the arcane symbol carved into the gnarly oak tree in the massively overgrown yard, Seksan felt his stomach twist, but he was ready. After all, the witch hunter's talent and enterprise had kept him intact this long. When he reached the door, it blew open with a blast, and Seksan entered. Predictably, the air… Continue reading The stench of thaumaturgy
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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