The Pale Verdict
The fog that rolled off the moor did not simply obscure the world; it swallowed it, a thick, gray wool that muffled the sound of my own breathing until I felt my lungs were the only things left in existence. I walked with the heavy, deliberate pace of a woman who has already accepted her burden, my boots sinking into the mud that clung to me like a second skin. It was the Year of the Ash, or so...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima