The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-20 11:51:00 -

The Pale Shadows

The air tasted of iron. Miles walked. His boots struck the wet stone. *Clack. Clack.* The sound was a metronome. It counted down his life. He was a man out of time. Or perhaps time had run out for him. He carried a satchel. It was heavy. Inside were blueprints. They were drawn on vellum. The ink was still wet. He followed a path. It wound through the fog. The fog was thick. It swallowed the...

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