The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 12:58:45 -

The feast hall smelled of roasting boar and wet wool. Torches hissed against the damp stone walls, casting long, trembling shadows that danced like ghosts across the floor. Sir Thomas Bradshaw sat at the head of the table, his armor polished to a mirror shine, though his hands shook. He watched the flames. They were hungry. They ate the wood and the light and the heat. Outside, the wind moaned...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews