The Faded River

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-20 10:00:17 -

The Faded River

The dust in the scriptorium was not merely dirt but a suspension of time, a fine, golden powder that settled into the creases of my skin and the fibers of my wool tunic, coating my lungs in a thick, silent fog that tasted of decay and dried oak. I sat hunched over the oak table, the candlelight flickering against the stone walls of the monastery, a prison of silence and shadow where the only...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 1 Views 0 Vista previa