The Pale Shadows
The feast was not a celebration. It was an autopsy performed on a living thing. The hall stretched out before Elias, a cavern of stone and shadow. The air tasted of ozone and old blood. He stood at the center of the room, his uniform pristine, white as the bone beneath his skin. Around him, the figures moved with a jerky, mechanical grace. They wore no faces, only smooth, pale ovals where eyes...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen