The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 13:06:12 -

The cup was cracked. It sat on the obsidian table before me. A thin line of white ran through the black glaze. A vein of lightning frozen in ceramic. I looked at it. It looked back. The room was cold. The air smelled of wet stone and old blood. I am Sir Thomas Bradshaw. I am the King’s Shield. I am tired. The King sat behind the throne. He did not look at me. He looked at the cup. His eyes were...

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