The Distant Temple
The bell did not ring. It tore. Captain Elias Thorne stood in the square, his uniform crisp, his rifle heavy in his hands. The air tasted of copper and ozone. Above him, the sky was not blue but a bruised violet, swirling with geometries that hurt the eye. The town of Oakhaven, or what remained of it, lay silent. The buildings were there, but they were wrong. The stone had softened. The windows...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen