The Faded Ruin
The mist did not roll in from the sea as it had for the last three winters; instead, it erupted from the marshlands south of Oakhaven with a violence that shattered the glass in the warden’s quarters and turned the morning into a gray, screaming void. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a border warden who has spent the last decade trying to keep the line between the living and the rot, and...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews