The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-18 16:39:29 -

The Wistful Ashes

You arrive in Oakhaven under a sky the color of a bruise, thick and swollen with the promise of rain that never breaks. The town smells of wet wool and woodsmoke, a scent that clings to your clothes, to your skin, to the inside of your throat. You are here because you were told to be here. The letter from the Magistrate was terse, devoid of warmth, offering only a stipend and a purpose. You are...

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