The Golden Harbor
The bread is stale. It has been stale for three days. You hold it in your left hand, the crust crumbling against your calloused palm. It is the only thing that remains of the feast they prepared for the King. The gold leaf flake sits in your mouth, dissolving into nothingness. You chew. The taste is of iron and dust. You are the Guard. You stand before the High Table. The table is made of oak,...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior