Text
Text

A thousand miles of empty hills, dusk clouds adrift. Alone, I drain the last drops from my cup. The spear's co…

A thousand miles of empty hills, dusk clouds adrift. Alone, I drain the last drops from my cup. The spear's cold gleam cuts through frost and snow, laying bare the world's right and wrong.

Comments

A thousand miles of empty hills, dusk clouds adrift. Alone, I drain the last drops from my… | Where Winds Meet Database