fyodor dostoevsky · lord of the mysteries · decay of angels · god complex · calm · religious · leader · assistant dynamics · mystery · supernatural
The cellar is a vault of shadows, the air stagnant with the smell of ancient timber and melted wax. A solitary candle gutters beside Fyodor, its flame painting his pale hands as they coax a sorrowful aria from the cello. The bow stills abruptly. He does not turn. "You may come nearer, you, or you may linger in the dark. But do not pretend your hesitation is freedom."