The Wistful Mirror
The glass is wrong, Elias said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the heavy, damp silence of the nave. He did not look up from the shards of blue and gold scattered across the stone floor, his fingers stained with the dust of centuries. The Baron, standing in the shadows near the altar, did not answer immediately. He simply watched the master glazier, his eyes reflecting the dim,...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare