CITY OF ANAPAISToward an ebon sunset of mist-enshrouded dusk in the rounded Temple of Thrais, along corridors of gold, porphyry, and silver rich beyond imagining, there stole the ancient shadows that were all of darkness and strange-seeming form. In the undying slumber of night, no tinkle of glass bewitched the eternal silence in the Temple of Thrais. No minstrel mimicked the fantastical lutes of ages past. All was silence in the Temple of Thrais as the shadows flitted about from room to room, their steps as of light itself. In the corridors of the temple, as the centuries rolled by, the dust collected in corners and crevices as the shadows wandered in silent vigil.
Within the city of Anapais, the silence of the streets was like the silence of a moonbeam. Streets painted a deep cerulean m
