The Faded Shield
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a cold, gray curtain that turned the grounds of Ashworth Hall into a slurry of mud and rotting leaves. Elias stood at the threshold of the cellar door, his twelve-year-old frame trembling not from the chill, but from the phantom agony that pulsed through his left knee, a bone that had healed crooked three winters ago and never truly stopped...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen