The Wistful Throne
The rain fell on the valley not as water but as a fine, grey ash that settled into the crevices of the stone walls and the folds of the tattered coats worn by the men who walked the ridge, a path that seemed to have been carved by the hands of the earth itself rather than by any human intent, leading them away from the village of Oakhaven where the smell of rotting turnips and damp wool had...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen