The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-17 15:05:52 -

The Wistful Ashes

The feast was a lie we ate. We sat in the dark. The walls were close. They pressed in. The air tasted of metal and old blood. I held the cup. It was cold. I drank. The liquid burned. It tasted of ash. Mara sat across from me. She did not look at me. She looked at the table. Her hands were still. They were white. I watched them. I wanted to touch them. I did not. I was a soldier. I had a rank. I...

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