The Pale Shadows
The silence in the archive room was not an absence of sound, but a physical weight, pressing against the eardrums like deep water. You sat at the heavy oak desk, the wood worn smooth by decades of hands that had since crumbled to dust, and you waited. The air smelled of dry rot and old ink, a scent that had long since become indistinguishable from the taste of your own blood. Outside, the world...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3 Views 0 previzualizare