The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-18 10:20:51 -

The Wistful Petal

The mud sucked at my boots like a jealous lover. I stood in the center of the courtyard, rain hammering the stone, and watched the blood pool around the feet of Lord Aldric. He was not dead. Not yet. But the light in his eyes was leaving, a slow, gray ebbing tide. I held the sword. My hands shook. They always shook after. Not from fear. From the cold. The wet cold that got into the marrow and...

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