The Wistful Mirror
The first thing you notice is the smell, not of rot, but of old iron and wet wool, a scent that has seeped into the very grain of the stone walls of the village of Oakhaven where you have lived your life as a keeper of the unseen. You are not a priest, nor a lord, but a shaper, a man who trades in whispers and binds the loose threads of fate with a needle made of starlight, and the people of...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima