The Pale Fracture
The frost had not yet taken the fields, but the air in Oakhaven carried the weight of a coming silence. It was a thin, brittle quiet that pressed against the eaves of the stone cottages and settled into the marrow of the bones. Elias stood at the edge of the village square, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that was more tradition than weapon. The steel was dull, wrapped in oiled cloth, a...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare