The Faded Frontier
The first thing you notice is the smell, a thick, metallic tang of old blood and wet wool that clings to the back of your throat, followed closely by the sound of the glass shattering. It is not a clean break; it is a violent, jagged explosion of splinters that rains down across the floor of the archive, turning the room into a glittering trap. You are standing in the center of it, your hands...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 35 مشاهدة 0 معاينة