The Wistful Skyline
The summons came not as a shout, but as the heavy, deliberate clearing of a throat from the shadows of the antechamber, a sound that seemed to weigh as much as the marble floor beneath my boots. I woke with the taste of bitter almond oil still clinging to my tongue, a phantom flavor that had no business existing in a world where I had not tasted poison in twenty years, yet the sensation was so...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews