The Golden Visit
The dream began not with light, but with the weight of a gold coin pressed into the palm of Sir Alaric Thorne, a weight that defied the physics of the waking world, a cold, liquid heaviness that seeped into his veins and turned his blood to molten metal as he stood in the courtyard of the Grey Citadel, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and the metallic tang of impending blood. He was...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews