The Distant Legend
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old manor house into a slick, reflective mirror of the dying sky. Inside the study, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Elias Thorne, a man whose face had been carved by decades of silent inquiry and whose hands trembled only when he thought no...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld