The Pale Meridian
The iron chain snapped with a sound like a bone breaking, and I was thrown onto the wet cobblestones of the market square. Rain lashed the town of Oakhaven, a gray sheet that blurred the world into a smear of mud and stone. I lay there, gasping, the taste of blood and iron thick on my tongue. My father’s hand had released me. He had let go. That was the first truth I had to swallow, dry and...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen