The Pale Shadows
The mist in Aethelgard does not rise; it settles, heavy and wet, pressing against the stone like a living thing that has forgotten how to breathe. You are Elias Thorne, a warden of the Deep Vault, and your hands are already shaking as you check the lock on your sword, the metal cold against your palm. Your order is specific, stamped in red ink on the parchment tucked into your tunic: retrieve...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima