The Distant Blade
The house stood on the edge of the cliff not as a monument to wealth, but as a wound in the earth, a jagged scar of white stone and black glass that bled salt air into its hollow rooms. Elara had dreamed of it for three days before she arrived, a recurring tableau where the walls breathed, where the corridors stretched and contracted like the ribs of a sleeping beast, and where a door at the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen