The Distant Crown

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:09:51 -

The Distant Crown

The smell of burnt sugar and iron hung in the air of the watchtower, a cloying, metallic tang that coated the back of Eamon’s throat. He dreamed of the honey cake, the one his mother had baked the morning before the bells began to toll. It sat on the table, golden and whole, the icing cracked slightly where the heat had rushed in from the oven. In the dream, the cake was breathing. It expanded...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews