The Distant Promise

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2026-08-17 12:07:07 -

I dreamt of the loom. It stood in the dark. The threads were red. Wet. They pulsed. I touched them. They burned. I woke. The stone was cold. I was in the Keep. The old fortress. We call it the Grey House. I am a Warden. My rank is high. My hands are clean. Or so I tell myself. The fog sat on the valley. It did not move. It watched. I pulled my cloak tighter. It was wool. Heavy. It smelled of...

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