The Distant Journey
The port city of Tyre groaned under the weight of its own history, a terraced scar on the mountainside where the sea met the stone in a perpetual, grinding argument. Here, the air tasted of brine and old iron, a flavor that settled in the teeth of every man who worked the docks or the ledgers. Hassan Othman stood in the shadow of the throne room, his hand hovering over the parchment, the ink...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews