The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 21:17:46 -

The Pale Dance

The rain did not fall so much as it pressed against the windowpanes of the watchtower, a grey, relentless weight that turned the forest below into a smear of ink and mud. Elias stood at the center of the room, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his breathing shallow and quick. He was a young man of twenty, with the kind of face that had not yet learned how to hide its fear, though the...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews