The Distant Nightmare
The iron-bound staff weighed four pounds, six ounces, and three days of sleepless nights. Silas gripped it until his knuckles turned the color of old bone, the metal cold against his palm, a small anchor in the swirling grey of the court. Before him, the shadow-wraith did not move so much as settle, a heavy, oily darkness draped over the shoulders of Elder Thomas, who sat slumped on the stone...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews