The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 19:38:44 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey veil that turned the cobblestones of Ashworth into a mirror of broken reflections, reflecting nothing but the damp and the decay. Sir Julian Thorne stood at the threshold of the keep, his hand resting not upon a sword hilt, but upon the cold, iron-banded oak of the doorframe, his knuckles white with a tension that seemed to vibrate...

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