The Golden Harbor
Wakes. That is all he saw. White. Cold. The water moved against the hull. It moved with intent. Elias woke with the taste of iron in his mouth. He lay on the floor of the cellar. The stone was damp. His body ached, a dull, rhythmic throb that matched the tide outside. He sat up. His head spun. He was a maker of clocks. Or he had been. Now he was just a man in the dark. "Get up, Elias." The...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 15 Views 0 previzualizare