The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-18 07:56:09 -

The Wistful Saga

The mud sucked at his boots. It was thick. It was black. It smelled of rot. And iron. Caspian Vane ran. He did not look back. To look back was to die. The arrows were loose. They hissed like dry leaves. They sang of old things. He was not alone. He was never alone. The forest pressed in. The oaks were ancient. Their roots twisted like knuckles. They had seen kings. They had seen plagues. They...

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