The Golden Echoes
The road north was a scar of red clay that cut through the heather, thinning out until it dissolved into the mist. Elias walked with a gait that was less a step and more a slide, his boots caked in the same earth that bound the village to the mountain. He was not a man in the way the villagers understood the word. He was a thing of smoke and silence, a half-formed spirit who had forgotten his...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior