The Wistful Asylum
The banquet of the dead was held in the Great Hall, where the chandeliers swayed with a gentle, sickly rhythm and the air hung thick with the scent of rotting lilies and old paper. Elias Thorne sat at the end of the long table, his hands trembling slightly as he cut a piece of cold roast beef, his eyes fixed on the wall where a faint, amber sap was weeping down the plaster, smelling of pine and...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare