The Pale Verdict
The iron gauntlet rests upon your forearm, a cold and heavy presence that has grown so intimate over the last three days that you can no longer distinguish the weight of the steel from the weight of your own blood, a symbiotic extension of your flesh that hums with a low, electric frequency only you can perceive, a resonance that vibrates in the marrow of your bones and whispers of the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews