The Golden Echoes
The iron biter was dull, the metal having grown soft in the heat of the forge and the sweat of our hands, and I watched the glint of the blade as it caught the torchlight, a thin line of fire that seemed to cut not just through the steel but through the very air of the workshop. Master Aldric did not look up from his work. His eyes were fixed on the anvil, on the rhythm of the hammer, on the...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση