The Distant Promise
The iron shield cracked not with a sound, but with a shiver. It was a subtle tremor, a frequency that bypassed the ear and resonated directly in the marrow of Sir Thomas Ashworth’s bones. He stood in the center of the Obsidian Court, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old blood. Around him, the palace guards—men in armor that glowed with a faint, sickly violet hue—raised their halberds....
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen