The Pale Echo
"You are bleeding on the floor again, Nora. It stains the flagstones. It stains the record." The Inquisitor’s voice was flat, bureaucratic, the voice of a man who had filed too many reports and felt too little for them. Nora did not look up from the shard in her hand. It was a sliver of bronze mirror, polished to a dull, dutiful shine, but now it was cracked, a fracture line running through its...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews