The Wistful Ashes

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-17 15:14:09 -

The Wistful Ashes

The ink was dry before the sun had fully risen. It sat on the parchment, black as a beetle’s shell, unchanging. The chamber smelled of damp stone and old wax. It was a smell that did not fade. It clung to the wool of the uniform. It settled in the hair. Thomas stood by the window. The glass was thick, clouded with grime. Outside, the city of Oren was silent. The towers rose like broken teeth...

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