The Wistful Saga
The fog lay thick upon the harbor at Port Meridian, a gray and suffocating blanket that swallowed the masts of the coal barges and the distant lighthouse in a single, uniform breath. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the pier, his fingers white-knuckled around a leather-bound ledger, watching the water churn with a rhythmic, mechanical violence. He was a man composed of sharp angles and quiet...
0 Commentaires 0 Parts 2 Vue 0 Aperçu