The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 03:17:46 -

The Distant Wound

The stone of the Atrium was cold, a deep, unyielding grey that seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it. Silas stood with his back against the central pillar, his hand resting on the hilt of a blade that had not tasted blood in three years, the metal slick with the sweat of his palm. The air in the Great Hall was thick, stagnant, smelling of old wax, damp wool, and the faint, metallic...

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