The Golden Song
Thorne, you are behind schedule. The voice did not come from the room, but from the air itself, a dry, papery rustle that seemed to peel off the spines of the ledger books lining the shelves. Elias Thorne looked up from his desk, his fingers stained with the brown ink of his ledger, and waited for the silence to return. It did not. Instead, a low, subsonic hum began to vibrate in the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews