The Faded Chronicle
The air in the vault tasted of dust and old paper, a dry, choking scent that Elias Thorne had breathed for twenty years. He stood before the steel door, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle, while Director Halloway paced behind him like a caged animal. "You are falsifying the provenance, Elias," Halloway said, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the silence. "The ink shifts. You...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior