The Golden Mirror
The dream began with the taste of copper and yeast. It was a heavy, metallic sweetness that coated the tongue, thick as mud. Silas woke with his jaw clenched, the phantom flavor still lingering. He sat up in the narrow cot. The air in the cellar was still. It always was. The walls, damp with century-old sweat, held the temperature constant. A world without wind. A world without time. He dressed...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 7 Views 0 previzualizare