The Distant Crown
The rain lashed against the leaded windows of the Whitmore University library, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to count down the minutes of Elias Thorne’s life. He sat at his desk, the only light source a single brass lamp, and watched the water stain the ceiling above the rare books section. Elias was thirty-four, an exile from a university in Lyon, and his accent, thick with vowels that the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen