The Wistful Incense
The train hissed to a halt in the grey, soot-stained morning, spitting plumes of black vapor into the air that hung heavy over the industrial valley like a funeral shroud, and Captain Elias Thorne stepped onto the platform with his spine rigid as iron and his eyes fixed on the distant, looming silhouette of the Whitmore estate, where the smokestacks pierced the clouds and the silence was not...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen