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“Dreams, sir. Bad dreams. And always the same, from what I can gather…something about being trapped in a tiny room with no door and no windows and no lights…utter darkness…and cold…very cold…and something in the dark with you…colder than the dark…and hungry.”
Truth can shrink and fancy can grow much in five centuries.” “You really think it takes that long?” Woermann said, taking in a final survey of the pass before he turned away. It can happen in a matter of a few years.
Some organization had been paying the upkeep of this place for centuries without interruption. Centuries! He knew of only one organization with the power, the resources, and the continuity for that: the Catholic Church.
It was unnerving to hear a human voice make a sound like that…the voice so near and the mind so far away.
