The Golden Ritual
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that settled into the pores of Thomas Bradshaw’s skin and refused to leave. He stood at the edge of the crumbling retaining wall, his back to the town of Oakhaven, which lay behind him like a wound that had never quite healed. Before him stretched the wild expanse of the moor, a jagged landscape of heather and mud that...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews