The Wistful Saga
The road to the highlands did not so much exist as it was remembered by the mud, a thick, dark ribbon of earth that clung to the boots of the men who walked it, sucking at their heels with a wet, rhythmic pull that seemed to echo the heavy, slow beat of their own hearts. They were the Watchers of the Valley, a company of men whose armor was not of steel but of worn leather and rusted iron,...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews