The Pale Echo

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 00:21:28 -

The Pale Echo

The rain fell in sheets. Gray. Cold. It hit the cobblestones of the High Court square with a relentless, hollow sound. It was the kind of rain that soaked through wool and bone. Silas stood under the eaves. He held his sword. The blade was dull. Not from age. From fear. He had not drawn it in three years. Not since the night the world cracked open. Not since he saw her face in the glass. He...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews