The Pale Banner
The mist did not roll in from the sea, as it had for three hundred years, but seeped up through the granite slabs of the courtyard, rising in thick, gray tendrils that smelled of ozone and old copper. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the square, his uniform immaculate, the brass buttons on his tunic catching a light that seemed to come from nowhere, a cold and sourceless luminescence that...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima