The Pale Verdict
The rain does not fall on the castle. It hangs. You are in the corridor. The stone is cold. You are a man of the King’s Guard. Your name is Thomas, though it does not matter. You matter only as a shield. You matter only as a wall. The rain presses against the high, narrow windows. It is the year of the Grey Silence. The air tastes of iron and wet wool. You are seeking the coat. It is a simple...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima