Father Elian's robes were found folded outside the cathedral's gates, soaked in wine that had never been poured. His journal, half-burned, spoke of lightless miracles and a voice that promised salvation through suffering. No one dared read the final entry aloud. It was said that the ink bled through the paper, and the words kept moving curling like worms, spelling prayers not meant for Heaven.
Dieser Download kann aus rechtlichen Gründen nur mit Rechnungsadresse in A, B, CY, CZ, D, DK, EW, E, FIN, F, GR, H, IRL, I, LT, L, LR, M, NL, PL, P, R, S, SLO, SK ausgeliefert werden.