The Golden Song
The sky above the valley of Aethelgard did not merely darken; it hemorrhaged a bruised, violet twilight that stretched across the horizon like a wound refusing to close, a sprawling expanse of color that seemed to pulse with a slow, arterial rhythm, defying the natural laws of the sun’s descent and trapping the land in a perpetual, suffocating dusk where shadows lengthened not with the evening...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews