The Wistful Saga
The stone hummed. It was a low, rhythmic thrum that vibrated in Elias Thorne’s teeth, a sound that seemed to rise from the very foundation of the King’s Palace. He stood guard in the drafty Hall of Echoes, his rifle held tight against his chest, while his wife Mara’s hand rested on his shoulder. Her fingers were cold. They had been cold for an hour, but he did not pull away. He needed to secure...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen