The Golden Visit
The dream was always the same: a circle of gold, not shining but burning, pressing against the skin like a branding iron. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of copper in his mouth, the year 1348 settling around him with the weight of a shroud. He was thirty-two, a scribe of modest renown in the service of Lord Vane, and his hands, usually steady enough to copy the Psalms without a tremor, were...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare