The Golden Song
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a silence so profound it felt like the air itself had been sucked from the room, leaving only the dry, brittle smell of parchment and the heat that radiated from the books you had spent your life curating. You stand in the center of the library, a man of forty years who has dedicated the better part of his existence to the preservation of the past,...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 2 مشاهدة 0 معاينة