The Distant Threshold

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-20 02:22:45 -

The sword is in your hand. It is wet. Not with rain. With blood. It is old blood. The color of rust. The color of dried roses. The air is thin. It tastes of iron and ozone. You are in the Hall of Mirrors. Or perhaps the Hall of Ghosts. The walls are made of silver. The floor is made of ice. But the ice does not break. It holds. It waits. You are a soldier. You have always been a soldier. Your...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 41 Views 0 Anteprima