The Pale Echo

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-18 10:16:25 -

The Pale Echo

The iron gate groaned. It was a low sound. A sound of age. Sir Aldric stood in the courtyard. He held his sword. The blade was dull. It had not been polished in days. Dust clung to the hilt. His hands shook. Not from cold. The air was still. It was the weight of the accusation. The King had spoken. The words hung in the air like smoke. Treason. That was the word. It was a heavy thing. It sat in...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 2 Views 0 Vista previa