The Pale Tower
The rain had not stopped for three days, a steady, grey sheet that turned the cobblestones of the old town into slick mirrors reflecting nothing but the sky. You walked with your head down, the heavy wool of your cloak soaking through to the skin, chilling the bones. You are a Warden, one of the few left who still remembers the old laws, the ones that bound the spirit to the stone and the soul...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen