The Distant Legend

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-18 23:00:00 -

The air tasted of iron and wet stone. I was bleeding. The cut on my palm was deep, a red thread unraveling in the gloom. My teacher, Master Aldric, watched from the shadows. He did not flinch. His eyes were cold, hard as the flint we used to strike our only light. I had failed. Again. The moth was dying. It hung from the tip of my wand, its wings shredded, its body twitching with a final,...

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