The Golden Cellar
The ink in my well is black, yet it dries into gold. It is a small, terrifying miracle, one I have kept hidden for three years in the basement of the Ministry of State. I am Elias Thorne, a junior scribe, and tonight I am attending the Chancellor’s autumn banquet. My only desire is to be invisible. I am to stand in the shadows, a pair of hands that copy orders, nothing more. The Chancellor, a...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme