The Golden Echoes
The bell did not ring so much as it exhaled, a long, bronze sigh that rolled through the cobblestones of the undercity and settled in the marrow of every prisoner. It was the hour of the Great Ingestion, the time when the city of Aethelgard demanded its tithe not in coin, but in flesh. Elias Vane stood in the antechamber, his hands bound by the soft, suffocating embrace of the silver cuffs, and...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen