The Distant Metropolis
The dust in the hallway of Thorne House did not settle; it hovered, suspended in the thin, gray light that filtered through the broken panes of the upper windows, a particulate fog that seemed to eat the very air Elias Thorne tried to breathe. He stood before the grand staircase, his hands resting on the banister, feeling the splintered oak beneath his palms as if he could will the wood to heal...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima