The Distant Blade
The letter lay on the mahogany table, its edges crisp, the ink a dry, bureaucratic black that smelled faintly of iron. Elias Thorne, Commander of the Northern Sector, did not look at it immediately; instead, he watched the iron gate of the headquarters through the floor-to-ceiling window, a monolithic slab of rusted metal that had stood in the center of the plaza for a hundred years,...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση