The Faded Shield
The hammer fell with a sound like a bone snapping, the iron shield glowing a dull, angry orange in the heart of the forge. Elias did not look up, his shoulders hunched under the weight of the leather apron that smelled of old sweat and sulfur. The year was 1348, and the air in the village of Oakhaven tasted of rot, a thick, cloying sweetness that clung to the back of the throat even when the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews