The Wistful Throne
The oak tree in the courtyard of Blackwood Keep did not merely stand; it presided, its roots drinking deep from the damp, cold earth while its branches clawed at the leaden, unyielding sky with a persistence that seemed to mock the fragility of the men who walked beneath its shadow, and I, Sir Aldous Thorne, stood before it with my hands bound not by rope but by the invisible, crushing weight...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare