The Wistful Saga

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 06:39:43 -

The Wistful Saga

The wine was red as a fresh wound. It pooled in the crystal goblets, catching the candlelight until the air itself seemed to bleed. I stood at the edge of the long oak table, my fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of my cup. The air in the Great Hall was thick, heavy with the scent of roasted lamb and spilled ale. It tasted of iron. I could feel it on my tongue, a metallic tang that had...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews