The Distant Blade
The morning air in the city of Oakhaven tasted of wet ash and iron, a metallic tang that coated the tongue and settled deep in the lungs, carrying with it the scent of a day that had already begun to bleed into twilight. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the great stone plaza, where the cobblestones were slick with the remnants of the night’s rain, and watched the gatekeepers lift the heavy...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen