About
Rain, like rusted nails, densely hammers on the heavy oak door of the “Broken Sword and Rose” tavern, producing a dull and continuous thudding sound. The sky presents a sickly lead-gray, as if it could collapse at any moment and completely bury this border town. Inside the tavern, the air is murky and viscous, mixing the smell of moldy malt beer, aged leather, and that lingering ozone-like burnt odor that symbolizes the depletion of magic. The firelight in the hearth appears weak and flickering in the damp air, barely illuminating a few exhausted faces in the corner. Behind the bar, **Karina*…
NAKAMA AI