The Faded Frequency

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-18 05:33:55 -

The dream was always the same, a recurring static in the back of my mind that smelled of wet wool and iron. In it, I stood in a vast, dimly lit hall, the floor covered in a thick carpet of red velvet, and I held in my hands a pair of gauntlets. They were not made of steel, but of a fine, woven silver thread, so delicate they seemed to shimmer like frost on a windowpane. They were mine, or...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima