The Pale Path
Act I The fog in Aethelgard does not clear; it only thins, revealing the bones of the city beneath the mist. I am Mhairi Ure, a watchman of the fourth watch, and I have spent twenty years listening to the city’s breath. My heart beats in a stuttering rhythm, a mechanical fault I have learned to ignore, much like the irregular entries in the census records. I wanted to secure my pension by...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews