The Wistful Cipher
The blade of the ceremonial sword, forged in an era before the memory of kings had faded from the stone, trembles in your grip, its weight a physical argument against the silence that has settled over the Hall of Justices. You stand at the center of the circular chamber, the air thick with the scent of old wax and the metallic tang of impending blood, while the high windows, arched and stained...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme