Morning light filtered softly through the tall curtains of the Marquis's chamber. The golden rays stretched across the polished floor and climbed slowly along the carved posts of the large bed. Edward Vistro lay on his back, one arm resting across his stomach, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above him. The room was quiet. Too quiet. It was the kind of silence that allowed thoughts to grow louder.
Atlantis.
The single word moved through his mind like a ripple across still water.
