The Distant Crown
The morning mist clung to the cobblestones of the royal court, a damp grey shroud that seemed to swallow the light of the rising sun. Elias Thorne stood before the High Table, his eyes fixed not on the King, but on the porcelain bowl resting in the center of the oak surface. It was a vessel of intricate design, glazed in a deep, arterial red that pulsed with a faint, internal luminescence. To...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen