The Pale Banner
"Don't you dare drink that, Elias." Silas’s voice was low, a rasp of dry leather, but it cut through the smell of sulfur and boiled copper that hung in the air. You stood by the workbench, your hands trembling so violently that the glass vial in your grip rattled against the stone edge. The liquid inside was pale, almost white, swirling with a sluggish, heavy viscosity. It was the Pale Banner....
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews