The Distant Crown
The air in the Hall of Mirrors was thick, not with heat, but with a suffocating density of expectation, a tangible weight that pressed against the eardrums like deep water. You stand at the center of the rotunda, the floor beneath your polished oxfords a mosaic of cracked glass and dark marble, reflecting a fractured version of yourself back up in a hundred disjointed shards. It is a banquet of...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme