The Pale Tower
The crack did not sound like stone breaking; it sounded like a sigh, a long and trembling exhalation that moved through the marrow of Sir Alaric’s bones before it ever reached the air of the high tower. He stood in the center of the circular chamber, the Pale Sigil held in his hands, a shard of crystallized starlight that had served as the mirror to his soul for forty years, and as the fissure...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews