The Golden Harbor
The brass key in my hand was cold, a solid weight that felt less like metal and more like a piece of frozen bone, its teeth worn smooth by twenty years of turning the same lock. I gripped it until my knuckles turned white, staring out at the churning black water of Blackwood Point where the sea threw itself against the rocks with a violence that shook the very foundations of the tower. The wind...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme