The Golden Cellar
The chandelier shatters not with a sound like glass, but with a wet, heavy thud that seems to tear the air itself, raining crystalline debris across the polished oak floor of the dining room. You stand in the center of the ruin, your hands still raised in a defensive arc, the muscles in your forearms trembling with the aftershock of the strike you did not intend to deliver. The air tastes of...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld