The Pale Protocol
The fox stood in the doorway of the tower room, its fur the color of old ash, blocking the only exit. It did not growl. It did not bare its teeth. It simply watched Elias, a creature of pale, silent judgment, as the alchemist stumbled back from the door and struck his shoulder against the cold stone wall. Three days. Three days since Clara’s fever had spiked, turning her skin to parchment and...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima