The Faded Dust

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2026-08-17 15:59:27 -

The Faded Dust

The feast was loud. It was a roar of cutlery and clinking glass, a storm of laughter that shook the dust from the rafters of the stone hall. We were all there. My father, the Lord High Warden, sat at the head of the long oak table. His face was flushed. His eyes were wet. He drank deep from a goblet of wine, the red liquid staining his lips like a wound. I sat opposite him. I wore the gray...

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