The master’s ring is not flesh. The villa’s walls are not bones. They fear what they cannot buy.
Three nights from now, when the moon hides behind the Temple of Venus, go to the third pillar under the Circus Maximus. You will see a slave with no brand on his face. Say this: “The river remembers the drowned.” slaves of rome mysterious letter
Here’s a dramatic and atmospheric text based on your prompt, The master’s ring is not flesh
Do not trust the ones who smile.