The Pale Tower
The wine in your goblet is dark as old blood, and the taste of it coats your tongue with a metallic sweetness that you have come to associate with the end of things. You are Elias, the Royal Cartographer, and you stand in the gilded hall of King Aldric’s feast, your eyes fixed not on the dancers but on the large, ornate mirror mounted on the far wall. In the glass, the room is a perfect replica...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima