The Faded Quadrant

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 03:15:04 -

The mud sucked at my boots. It was thick, cold, and smelled of iron. I did not look up. I could not. My eyes were fixed on the hem of the red cloak. It dragged through the slurry. The fabric was once crimson. Now it was the color of dried blood. Then of rust. Then of nothing. I moved. My sword was a dead weight in my hand. The steel was notched. The edge was dull. I had fought three men that...

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