The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-17 15:04:20 -

The Wistful Ashes

The bell tolled. It was a low, guttural sound that vibrated in the marrow of my bones. I stood on the precipice of the Iron Gate. Behind me, the camp was silent. Ahead, the fog rolled in from the valley below. It was thick. It was white. It smelled of rot and iron. I checked my weapon. The blade was dull. It had been dull for years. I held it with a grip that felt like bone. My hands were...

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