The Distant Promise
The low thrum in the walls of the Blackwood Sanatorium was not a sound so much as a pressure, a physical weight that settled behind Elara Vane’s sternum and refused to lift. She pressed her quill to the ledger, the ink blotting into the damp paper, and tried to ignore the way the vibration synced with her own pulse, a metronome of dread ticking down the seconds of her remaining utility. At...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews