The Wistful Skyline
The rain fell on the rooftop of the St. Jude’s Watchtower in a steady, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the city below, turning the steel spires and glass facades into smudged ghosts against the twilight sky. Elias Thorne stood at the perimeter, his boots heavy with water and the accumulated weight of twenty years of service, watching the mist roll in from the harbor to swallow the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews