The Golden Cellar
The bell did not ring. It screamed. It tore through the silence of the valley, a jagged note of metal on metal that stopped your breath in your throat. You stood in the mud of the ford, the water cold and black against your boots. The rain was falling in sheets, heavy and gray, washing the dust from your uniform until the wool was dark and clinging. You were a Warden. That was your name. That...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen