The Faded Bouquet

adicionou um novo artigo Literature

2026-08-18 08:24:32 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain fell like static on the glass. Silas stood in the doorway. He held the mirror. It was not glass. It was obsidian. Cold. Black. Deep. The water seeped under his boots. The mud sucked at his weight. He did not look down. He looked into the shard. His face stared back. Paled. Wet. Eyes wide with a terror that had no name. Not his own fear. Older. Deeper. The road behind him was gone....

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