The Golden Crossing
The gold chain sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, heavy and cold, its links catching the grey light that seeped through the workshop’s single, high window. He rubbed his thumb over the clasp, feeling the smooth, deliberate weight of it against his skin. Outside, the distant thud of artillery rolled across the city, a low, rhythmic vibration that shook dust from the ceiling beams and settled on the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews