The Wistful Crossroads
The road to the Iron Vale does not end so much as it dissolves into a fog that tastes of copper and old blood, and you have walked it so long that the memory of your name feels like a stone held in your mouth, heavy and cold against the tongue. You are Thomas, or perhaps you are not, for the identity of the man who once wore the scarlet tunic of the Crown’s justice has been ground away by the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 32 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen