The Faded Road
The fire in the great hall of Millhaven roared like a living beast, devouring the oak logs until the air was thick with the scent of resin and sweat. You sat at the far end of the long table, your hands folded in your lap, feeling the heat press against your face while the rest of the town celebrated the harvest with wine and roasted pork. The Lord, a man named Ashworth whose name meant ash and...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima