The Golden Circuit
The wall screamed. It was a sound of tearing metal, a shriek that vibrated in the teeth. Sergeant Elias Thorne did not flinch. He held his ground in the center of the room, his boots planted on the floor of polished obsidian. The air here was thick, tasting of ozone and old blood. He had been here for three days, or perhaps three weeks. Time in the Circuit did not move in lines. It moved in...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen