The Pale Dance
The ballroom of the Sterling Heights Military Academy hummed with a low, metallic resonance that vibrated in the teeth of every guest present. It was the annual gala, a spectacle of polished brass, crimson velvet, and the scent of stale perfume masking the underlying odor of old stone and fear. Colonel Elias Thorne stood at the periphery of the dance floor, his uniform crisp and unyielding, a...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima