The Wistful Skyline
The bell of the tower at St. Jude’s rang out, a deep, bronze groan that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones, a sound that had defined the rhythm of my life for forty years. I sat alone in the high, cold gallery, the stone beneath my knees biting through my heavy wool trousers. Below, the city of Aethelgard sprawled in a tapestry of slate and shadow, the mist rising from the river like...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima