The Golden Harbor
The air in the valley of Oakhaven was thick with the scent of wet earth and rotting leaves, a heavy, suffocating perfume that seemed to cling to the skin like a second, darker coat, and I stood at the center of the square, my hands wrapped around the hilt of a sword that felt less like a weapon and more like an extension of my own bone structure, feeling the vibration of the crowd’s murmurs...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews