The Pale Circus
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a thick and grey curtain that blurred the boundaries between the earth and the sky, wrapping the world in a shroud of dampness that smelled of rotting leaves and ancient stone, and through this veil walked Sir Aldric Thorne, a man whose armor was dented not by the clash of steel but by the weight of a duty he could no longer comprehend, his boots...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews