The Golden Harbor
The quill scraped against the parchment, a sound like a fingernail dragging down a chalkboard, and Elias Thorne did not look up. The ink was wet, dark, and spreading slightly into the fiber of the page, a small, black stain that seemed to pulse with its own life in the dim light of the archive. He was copying the final line of the ledger, the one that listed the sum diverted from the Orphanage...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews