The Wistful Silence
The road into the highlands was not merely a path but a scar, a jagged line of crushed slate and frozen mud that cut through the chest of the world, and Elias Vane walked it with the heavy, rhythmic cadence of a man who had spent thirty years measuring the distance between his own heartbeat and the silence of the void, his boots sinking into the slurry with a wet, sucking sound that seemed to...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews