The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 18:45:39 -

The Wistful Petal

The brooch was cold against my chest, a small, jagged shard of garnet held in a setting of tarnished silver. It was not beautiful. It was a wound on the fabric of my tunic, a permanent reminder of the debt I owed to the stone, and the stone to me. I sat in the corner of the great hall, the torchlight flickering across the faces of the knights, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews