The Pale Bonsai
The road is not a path but a wound in the earth, a long, scarred line that cuts through the heath and ignores the maps drawn by men who have never bled. You walk it because the Order demands it, because the silence of the village behind you is a debt that must be paid in steps, in breath, in the slow grinding of bone against stone. You are a Warden, a title that sounds like a heavy door...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima