The Golden Downtown
The fire did not begin with a spark but with a sound, a low, resonant hum that vibrated in the marrow of my bones before the first orange lick of flame breached the slate tiles of the High Street, and I stood there, in the middle of the cobblestones, watching the ancient city of Aethelgard tear itself apart from the inside out, the air thick with the scent of burning oak and the sweet, cloying...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση