The Faded Chronicle
The roof came down in a shower of slate and splintered oak. It was not a storm that broke the house, but a silence. A silence that had grown so thick in the village of Oakhaven that the air itself felt heavy, pressing against the eaves until the timbers groaned and gave way. Elian was seven. He stood in the ruined kitchen, dust settling on his shoulders like early snow. The world outside was...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima