The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 00:20:12 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain tasted of rust. It slicked the cobblestones of Harrowgate, turning the grey morning into a mirror for the sky. Elias stood under the awning of the closed bakery, his boots heavy with mud. He was a man of few words, a soldier in the town’s private army, a title he held with the gravity of a crown made of lead. His hands, scarred and thick, rested on the hilt of a baton that was more...

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