The Pale Meridian
The fog lay thick on the harbor, a gray wool that smothered the lights of the port and the breath of the men. It was the year of the long silence, or so the elders said, though no one remembered when the sound had truly ended. Only the bells remained, and even those were muted by the damp air that clung to the stone walls of the Citadel. Silas stood at the edge of the pier, his hands clasped...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews