The Golden Harbor

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-17 04:22:22 -

The Golden Harbor

The feast hall smelled of beeswax and old blood. Margaret sat at the end of the long oak table. Her fingers were wrapped around a chalice of silver. The metal was cold. It bit into her skin. She did not pull away. The air was thick. It hung heavy with the scent of roasted lamb and the damp earth that seeped through the stone floor. Outside, the rain lashed against the high, narrow windows. The...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 1 Views 0 Vista previa