The Wistful Atlas
The stone tasted of iron and old blood. I pressed my thumb against the fractured surface of the Great Hall’s central pillar, feeling the cold seep into the bone, a sensation that traveled up the arm and settled in the hollow of my chest. I was a seeker of truth in a court that had long since buried it under layers of gold leaf and silence. My name was irrelevant here; I was merely the...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme