The Golden Harbor
The chisel struck the limestone with a dull, wet thud, the vibration traveling up Elias Thorne’s arm and settling in the ache of his shoulder. Rain slicked the courtyard, turning the ancient flagstones into a mirror that reflected not the sky, but the distorted, oily shimmer of the mist rising from the crypt’s mouth. He wiped his brow with a sleeve already black with dust, his eyes fixed on the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews