The Golden Harbor
The bell rang three times. The sound was not metal on metal. It was bone on bone. You stood in the center of the circular hall. The air tasted of iron and old dust. You gripped the hilt of your sword. Your knuckles were white. The stone floor was cold. It seeped through the soles of your boots. "Is he here?" you asked. Your voice was low. It did not echo. The walls absorbed it. The figure...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen