The Faded Ruin

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 17:26:53 -

The Faded Ruin

The rain tasted of iron. It ran down the visor of my helmet, stinging the bridge of my nose. I held my rifle steady. My hands did not shake. They never did, not when the work was done. "Stand down," I said. My voice was low. Rough. Like gravel under a boot. The man in front of me raised his hands. He wore a grey coat. It was soaked through. Shivering. He looked small. A sparrow caught in the...

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