The Pale Tower
The ledger counted four hundred and twelve days since the last inspection, a number Elias Thorne had etched into the damp plaster of his office wall with a nail, a tally of neglect that served as both his alibi and his prison. He was forty-two, a warden in name only, his lungs a rusted engine that coughed up pink flecks each time the wind shifted through the broken window of Blackwood...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen