The Wistful Campus
The silence in the Hall of Whispers was not an absence of sound, but a physical weight, a thick, velvet fog that pressed against the eardrums and settled deep in the marrow. I stood at the center of the circular dais, the stone cold and unyielding beneath my boots, while the Grand Archon watched from the high balcony above. His face was obscured by the traditional iron mask, a featureless plate...
0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 1 Views 0 Vista previa