The Pale Exile
The loom in the back room of the cottage is older than the house, its wood dark with age and the sweat of generations. You sit before it, your hands trembling not from the cold, but from the fever that has taken your sister, Margot, three days ago. The task is simple on its face: finish the shroud for Lord Thorne before the first snow locks the highland passes. The steward, Silas, has been...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima