The Distant Temple
The hand of the clock on the wall ticked with a heavy, mechanical persistence, marking the seconds that Elias Thorne had spent staring at the stillness of his sister’s face. Mara lay on the cot in the back room of the apothecary, her skin pale as the plaster of the ceiling, her breathing shallow and rapid, a fragile rhythm that seemed to stutter against the silence of the shop. Elias held the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews