The Faded Frontier

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-21 12:42:59 -

The cold in the chapel was not merely a temperature, but a presence, a heavy, damp hand pressed against your chest. You sat in the back, your knees drawn up to your chin, the hem of your robe frayed and thin. The air smelled of wet stone, old incense, and the metallic tang of your own blood. It was a smell you had come to associate with your hands. You looked at them now, resting on your...

0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 2 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση