The Golden Quest
The fog does not roll in; it waits, thick and grey as wet wool, until the clock strikes midnight. You stand at the edge of the Veil, your breath visible in the freezing air, your hand resting on the hilt of your service pistol though you know it is useless here. The debt is a physical weight, a stone in your gut that grows heavier with every day you remain in service to the Crown. You are Elias...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews