The Distant Wound
The iron gate did not open. It never opened for those who arrived with empty pockets and full hands of blood. Caelen stood before the towering masonry of the Citadel of Ash, a structure that seemed less built by men than grown from the earth itself, a jagged tooth of obsidian and granite biting into the bruised sky. The wind here did not blow; it screamed, a low, mournful thrum that vibrated in...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews