The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 21:43:56 -

The hall smelled of roasting pig and old stone. I stood by the hearth. The fire was high. It licked the lintel. "Look at her," I whispered. My sister, Elara, sat at the high table. She wore a gown of white silk. It clung to her like fog. Her hair was loose. It spilled down her back. She was beautiful. She was dying. The guests laughed. They drank ale from clay cups. They threw bones to the...

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