The Wistful Ashes
The banquet hall of the Ministry of Civic Harmony smelled of roasted goose, burnt wax, and the metallic tang of ozone that perpetually clung to the walls of the industrial district. It was a feast of such ostentatious excess that the air seemed to thicken, becoming a viscous medium through which the guests moved with the slow, deliberate grace of figures trapped in amber. Captain Elias Thorne...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima