The Golden Quest
The sky above the Ironworks did not simply turn red; it bled, a slow and viscous hemorrhage that stained the cobblestones of the lower district until the very air tasted of copper and old blood. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, for time had lost its rigid architecture in the weeks since the Great Collapse, yet the rhythm of the city’s machinery, that great industrial beast that had...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme