The Distant Blade
The frost has settled into the weave of your cloak, a cold that is not merely physical but a structural failure of the soul, and you know this because you can feel the shattering happening in the marrow of your bones, a microscopic cataclysm that mirrors the fracture in the glass you carry. You are walking. You have been walking for three days, through the white silence of the highlands where...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen