Stone Parapet

A jagged slab of rough gray granite bookend anchored the lower shelf, holding back a heavy row of leather-bound tomes. I did not strike it. The house had fallen into dead silence, and a warrior demands solid stone at his back when night descends. I climbed onto the thick wooden ledge and backed my armored spine against the granite face. The cold rock took my weight without grinding or yielding an inch. Resting the flat of my broadsword across my boots, I set my watch over the darkened expanse of the hallway. Let the shadows stir. This redoubt holds. lightning strikes.