The Golden Greenhouse
The glass shatters not with a scream but with a sigh, a long, exhalation of cold air that rushes into the room like a tide of broken stars. You stand in the center of the greenhouse, your hands still raised, the residue of the spell hanging in the air like visible smoke, thick and gray and tasting of copper. The shards are everywhere. They glitter on the soil, they cling to the wet walls, they...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima