The Pale Shadows
The rain did not fall so much as it settled, a grey mist that clung to the damp stone of the keep and seeped into the marrow of anyone who dared to stand near the window. It was the season when the harvest had long since rotted in the fields and the hearth fires burned low, consuming the last of the dried wood before the deep winter set in. Inside the great hall, the silence was not empty but...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 5 Visualizações 0 Anterior