The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 19:14:30 -

The Wistful Petal

The bell rang. Not once, but a sustained, tearing shriek that split the morning air. I stood in the courtyard, mud caking my boots, my hands shaking. The stone was cold. The sky was grey. Then the ground heaved. It was not an earthquake. It was a beast. It rose from the earth, a shape of smoke and iron, smelling of ozone and old blood. It had no face. It had only eyes. Many eyes. They blinked...

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