The Faded Shield
The rain fell upon the cobblestones of Oakhaven with a persistent, rhythmic insistence that seemed to mimic the beating of a heart long since stopped, washing the grime from the faces of the statues that lined the High Street but unable to cleanse the moral stain that had settled over the city like a thick, grey fog, a place where the air tasted of wet wool and old iron and where the shadows of...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews