The Wistful Skyline
The seal of the King was broken not by the sword, but by the hand of the man who had sworn to keep it whole. I stood in the center of the Great Hall, the air thick with the smell of wet stone and old blood, watching the crimson wax shatter under the weight of the Lord Marshal’s gauntlet. It was a small thing, a crack in the red, yet it sounded like the breaking of a bone in the quiet of the...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare