The Faded Ruin
The siren did not wail so much as it gurgled, a wet, dying sound that rose from the basement of the Ministry of Public Order and echoed against the high, vaulted ceilings of the Grand Atrium. I stood in the center of the marble floor, my boots heavy with the dust of the lower levels, my hand resting on the hilt of my sidearm which felt less like a tool of justice and more like a stone of guilt....
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen