The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 05:45:26 -

The snow did not fall gently. It drove sideways, a gray curtain of ice needles that stung the skin and blurred the horizon into a single, indistinct void. Sir Thomas Ashworth walked alone through the pass. His boots crunched against the frozen mud, a rhythmic, hollow sound that seemed to echo the emptiness inside his chest. He was a man of the law, a knight of the Crown, bound by oaths older...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews