The Wistful Petal

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 08:48:11 -

The Wistful Petal

The ink was still wet on the parchment when I felt the weight of the house settle around me, a heavy, breathing thing of oak and stone. I sat in the library, the only room in Blackwood Manor that did not smell of rot, though the scent was creeping in from the walls like a slow tide. My father, the High Warden, stood by the window. He did not turn. He never turned when he was speaking of duties....

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