The Wistful Mountain

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 07:24:45 -

The sword was heavy. It had always been heavy, a slab of iron that tasted of rust and old blood in the mouth. It hung from the belt of a man who no longer remembered his own name. The village of Oakhaven lay below in the mist, a tangle of stone and thatch, silent as a held breath. He stood on the ridge, the wind pulling at his tattered cloak. Below him, the trees swayed. They were the oaks. The...

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