The Song of the Hollow
The castle of Oakhaven did not sit upon the hill; it clung to it, a jagged tooth of black basalt biting into a sky the color of a bruised plum. Inside, the air was a thick tapestry of mildew, cold stone, and the metallic tang of old blood. The corridors were veins of shadow, and the silence was a living thing, waiting to be fed. Sebastian stood in the center of the oubliette, his silhouette a...
0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 29 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр