The Distant Threshold
Act I "You are certain the ink has dried, Shirin? Do not make a fool of this office again." I set the quill down, the weight of it familiar and cold in my palm, and looked at the Director. He sat behind a desk of dark walnut, the wood grain swirling like a storm trapped in varnish. I had come to him with the ledger, or what was left of it, to prove that the missing pages had been stolen, not...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima