The Pale Tower
The tower stands at the edge of the city, a spire of pale stone that seems to dissolve into the low-hanging fog. You have walked this path for three years. Every morning, you rise before the sun, dress in the grey wool they require, and walk the long, wet streets toward the Institution. The air is cold and tastes of iron and damp rot. You do not look at the people passing you. They do not look...
0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 4 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр