The Faded Chronicle
The train did not so much arrive at the city of Vellum as it bled into it, a long, iron exhalation of steam and rust that tasted of coal smoke and old rain, and I stepped onto the platform with the heavy, grinding certainty of a man who has already lost the war before he has even drawn his sword, my boots sinking into the grime that coated the cobblestones like a second, permanent skin. I was a...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior