The Faded Masquerade

adicionou um novo artigo Literature

2026-08-18 11:09:04 -

The dream always began with the dust. It was fine gray powder. It settled on the stone floor of the keep. It coated my sword. It caked in the creases of my armor. I stood in the great hall. My feet were bare. The cold bit into my skin. I was not alone. Sir Aldric stood by the hearth. He held a cup of ale. He did not look at me. His back was hunched. He looked old. He looked broken. "Stay," he...

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