The Golden Scar
The dream began with the sound of breaking glass, a sharp, crystalline shriek that tore through the velvet silence of the workshop. Elias Vane stood in the center of the room, his hands raised as if to catch the falling shards, but his fingers were translucent, ghostly, and when the light caught his wrists, he saw not skin but the intricate, golden lattice of the locket he had spent three...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews