The Wistful Cipher

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 06:38:48 -

The feast was a wound in the dark. Candles guttered in iron sconces, throwing long, trembling shadows against the stone walls of the manor house. The air smelled of roasted lamb, wax, and the damp earth that seeped through the cracks in the foundation. Sir Alistair stood at the head of the long oak table. His armor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the frantic faces of the guests. He...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews