The Faded Root
The dream did not begin with an image, but with a sound: the wet, rhythmic thrum of heavy boots against polished oak, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the marrow of Captain Elias Thorne’s bones before his eyes even opened to the pale, gray light of the barracks. He lay on the cot, his body rigid, the sheets twisted around his legs like the roots of an uprooted tree, and he knew, with the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen