The Distant Nightmare
The rain lashed against the stained glass of the Grand Atrium, turning the light into a fractured kaleidoscope of blue and grey. Professor Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the balcony, his fingers trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the air. Below, in the cavernous hall of the Whitmore Institute, the assembly waited. They were men of power and industry, men in...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima