The Pale Path
The iron of the blade bit deep into the flesh of Sir Alistair Thorne’s forearm, the pain a sharp, electric jolt that cut through the pervasive, glacial fog of Blackwood Estate. He was fifty years old, a knight bound by an oath older than the stones beneath his feet, and in this moment, he was not a man of honor but a creature of exhaustion, his vitality sapped by the spectral trail that had...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare