The Distant Whispers

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-19 17:30:20 -

The morning fog lay heavy on the manicured lawns of the estate, a white shroud that swallowed the iron gates and the statues of weeping angels. Silas stood at the window of the east wing, his hand resting on the cold brass of the doorknob, though he did not intend to open it. He was a man of rigid posture and quiet habits, a former soldier of the regiment who had seen the trenches of Flanders...

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