The Faded Portrait
"You are late," said the Chancellor. The voice was dry. It scraped against the air like sand on a stone. Elias did not answer. He stood by the window. The glass was cold. He could feel the chill through his sleeve. Outside, the rain fell in sheets. It hammered the pavement. It ran in dark rivulets. The city below was a blur of gray and black. It was a city of power. It was a city of lies. "Are...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen