The Faded Guest
The hall smells of roasted pork, spilled ale, and the thick, cloying sweetness of decay that has settled into the very plaster of the ancestral home, a scent that you have learned to associate not with death, but with the heavy, suffocating presence of Lord Ashworth, whose name is spoken with a reverence that feels less like respect and more like the trembling of a leaf before the wind. You sit...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen