The Pale Tower
You stand at the edge of the precipice, the wind tearing at the heavy wool of your greatcoat, the air thin and biting, carrying with it the scent of wet stone and the distant, metallic tang of the sea that has always threatened to swallow this coastal city whole. You are the Keeper of the Light, a title that once held the weight of divine order, of guiding the lost and protecting the shore, but...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 3 مشاهدة 0 معاينة