The Pale Meridian
The moss on the stones of the valley floor is thick enough to swallow a boot, and you have been walking for three days without finding the place where the light stops moving. You are a cartographer of the unseen, a man who maps the edges of what is not there, and you carry with you a glass vial that holds a single, trembling leaf of the White Willow. It is the only thing you own that is not...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare