The Golden Circuit
The letter lay on the cold stone floor, the ink still wet, bleeding into the parchment like a slow bruise. Captain Elias Thorne did not pick it up. He stood by the window, watching the rain streak the glass, blurring the city of Aldergate into a smear of grey and black. The sound of the storm was a low, continuous hum, a vibration in his bones that matched the tremor in his hands. He was a man...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen