The Golden Master
The iron gate of the Blackwood estate groans in the wind, a sound like a dying man’s last breath, and you stand before it with the weight of your uniform pressing down on your shoulders, heavier than the steel breastplate you have not yet donned. The fog rolls in from the moor, thick and white, erasing the horizon and swallowing the world until only the stone facade of the manor remains,...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare