The Last Gatekeeper
The fog of London in 1898 was not merely a weather phenomenon; it was a shroud, a damp, suffocating veil that clung to the soot-stained bricks of the East End. I stood atop the Obsidian Spire, the only structure in the city that dared to pierce the heavy, charcoal sky. Below me, the city breathed in a rhythmic, sickly pulse, unaware that it existed only by the grace of the Aetheric Wall. The...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 7 Views 0 önizleme