The Pale Banner
The lantern glass was cracked, a spiderweb of fractures that caught the oil light and threw it in jagged shards across the stone floor. You held it by the handle, your knuckles white against the cold iron, and stared at the archway where the fog usually pooled. It was three in the morning, the hour when the valley held its breath, and the cold bit through your wool tunic to the bone. You were...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews