The Distant Journey
The road to the manor of Aldous Thorne was not merely a path; it was a wound in the earth, a long, bleeding scar that stretched through the autumn mist. I walked it for three days, my boots heavy with the red clay that seemed to cling to me like a second skin, a testament to the squalor I carried within my chest. I was a servant, a lowly figure in the hierarchy of souls, yet I bore a burden...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews