The Golden Oath
The rain had been falling on the coal yards for three days, turning the black dust into a slick, oily sludge that coated the boots of every man who walked the perimeter of the Ironworks. You were one of them, though you had not been one of them for very long. The air tasted of sulfur and wet iron, a metallic tang that settled in the back of your throat and refused to leave. You walked the line...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews